Demon Spawn: The Phone Call
by Gohanna
Summary: AU Stanford Era: "Dean ... Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering secrets involving the youngest Winchester that have been years in the making. WARNING: Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Introducing new character, Caelan Hagan. Hope you enjoy.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER ONE**

 **May 2** **nd** **2004**

Caelan Hagen was rudely awoken by the sound of his phone vibrating upon the bedside table beside him. His first instinct was to ignore it, roll over and go back to sleep, the pounding in his head making him regret all of the tequila shots he had been _dared_ into drinking by a cocky, fearless Dean Winchester.

Dean had called him a wuss and something along the lines of getting too old to hold his liquor, basically insulting his man-hood. And so Caelan had decided to prove Dean wrong by matching tequila shots with the young man who was six years his junior.

Now, Caelan regretted the way Dean had manipulated him to prove his manliness. Why he let Dean get under his skin after eighteen years of being best friends – more like brothers – with the rash, potty-mouthed Hunter, was something Caelan would never understand. But Dean Winchester always managed to bring out the competitive side in Caelan Hagen. And no matter how many times Caelan would lecture himself to not be pulled into Dean Winchester's childish games of competiveness, pranks and good drinking times, by the end of the night he had succumbed to Dean's will without a seconds hesitation.

The two of them brought out the worst in each other … and the best in each other as well. They may fight and argue sometimes but Dean was _family_ , and Caelan would protect him with his life.

Caelan groaned loudly as his phone continued to vibrate, his ring tone beginning to get louder now as well. Whoever it was, they weren't going away! Caelan opened his eyes, blinking at the blurry numbers displayed upon his alarm clock as he reached for his phone. Four a.m. in the morning! Damn, he hadn't even gotten an hour sleep. No wonder he felt like shit!

"Yeah?" Caelan almost snarled into the phone as he lay back and closed his eyes, slowly massaging his forehead with his free hand, the room spinning slightly around him. Damn! This was going to be one hell of a bad hangover!

 _Dean Winchester, you are a dead man_! Caelan silently vowed, no noise coming from the other end of the line. Oh my God, if this was a wrong number, he was going to reach through the phone and strangle the stupid bastard!

"C-C-Caelan,"

Caelan's eyes flew open as he shot into a sitting position, a feeling of unease coming over him at the soft, hesitant voice on the other end. "Sammy?" Caelan breathed in surprise. Of all of the people to get a phone call from at four in the morning … Sam Winchester was definitely the last person on his list!

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" Caelan couldn't help but ask, pains of worry stabbing through him at the barely muffled sobs on the other end of the line.

"N-no, not really. Caelan … I-I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have … I didn't know who else to call."

Caelan flicked on the lights and began to look for his clothes, the terror he could hear within the young man's voice, kicking Caelan's protective instincts into gear. Even though no one had heard a word from Sam Winchester in two years, ever since the night he left for Stanford, Caelan didn't have it in him to abandon the boy – even though Sam seemed to have no problem in abandoning and walking out on them!

"No, it's okay," Caelan murmured, knowing that this was not the time for petty vendettas, hurt feelings or pride. Sammy had called. Something must be wrong for Sam to have called him – especially since it was after four in the morning! "What's going on kiddo?"

"I … I don't know where I am. I … I fucked up Caelan. I thought … they said if I wanted to protect my family and to stop the _punishments_ … I had to go to Stanford. I had to get away from all of you … because I'm tainted – cursed! No contact. I wasn't allowed to con-contact you … anyone. If I didn't leave … if I didn't d-do the right thing and leave, they … they were going to _punish_ Dean Caelan. I couldn't let them hurt Dean! You understand that, right?"

A cold feeling seeped through Caelan at the younger man's words, his almost desperate plea for Caelan to believe him. "Sam –"

"I didn't want to come here or to leave any of you. And … not being able to contact you … I-I'm sorry. I had to protect them … and you. I had to … I didn't have a choice."

Caelan swallowed hard at the young man's insistent words, almost as if he thought Caelan wouldn't believe him. If there was one thing Caelan knew for certain about the young man on the phone, it was that Sam Winchester didn't lie. Sometimes he was over sensitive and he may blow things completely out of proportion, but he wasn't a liar.

"Sam –" Caelan tried again to reassure the obviously distressed young man.

"I need you to tell Dean … and Dad that this was not my choice. I would _never_ abandon them … any of you. But … I-I don't understand. Everything is wrong! It's the wrong date for starters; and they ... they broke the agreement Caelan. I'm not br-breaking the rules … I'm not … well, I am. But … they – _he_ – broke it first. Which means … all of this … _leaving_ … it didn't do a damn thing! It was all for nothing!"

Caelan couldn't help but wince at the younger man's frustrated despair, Sam's words not making a lick of sense to him at all. As far as Caelan knew, the choice to go to Stanford and lead a "normal" life had been Sam's decision and no one else's. But now … if Caelan understood what Sam was telling him, the choice to go to Stanford hadn't been Sam's at all. Someone had preyed on Sam's worst fears – something happening to his family because of him – and Caelan suddenly became filled with intense anger.

"Sam," Caelan growled, trying to keep the anger out of his voice as much as possible, knowing that Sam would think that Caelan's anger was directed at him. "I don't understand everything you are saying but … if someone _forced_ you to leave or threatened you –" Caelan took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to remain calm for the time being. "Actually, it might be better if I just come to you." He murmured almost to himself. "Are you in your dorm right now Sam?"

Silence from the other end.

"Sam?" Caelan frowned at the fast and shallow breathing on the other end of the phone, his alarm beginning to increase dramatically now. "Sam, what's going on? Are you okay?"

Panting now, almost as if the younger man couldn't get enough air. Shit! Was Sam hyperventilating? Or was it a … panic attack?

Caelan's brown eyes widened in both surprise and dismay. Sammy hadn't had a panic attack in years. In fact, the last one that Caelan could recall him having was the night of Sam's eighteenth birthday.

The only one who could really help Sammy when he was having a panic attack was his big brother Dean. But … Caelan looked across at the empty bed beside him longingly. Dean had left the bar with some blonde woman, promising that he would be back in the morning, grinning at his friend knowingly.

Caelan sighed loudly, knowing that he had to at least _try_ and help the younger man on the phone. "Sammy? Can you hear me? Just … take it easy kid," Caelan tried to remain calm and sound reassuring, but the panic within Caelan made him know that he wasn't succeeding as much as he hoped.

"Sam – Sammy," Caelan tried again, dropping and lowering his voice down a notch. "I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay kiddo? I need you to calm down, take a deep breath and let it out slowly; like me, okay? Just copy me, okay Sammy?"

For the next several minutes, Caelan coached Sam through the breathing technique that he recalled seeing Dean doing when Sam's panic attacks were at their worst seven years ago, and was relieved to notice that the kid's breathing – although still slightly fast – had improved dramatically.

"That's it Sammy," Caelan encouraged him. "You're doing great. Are you okay now?"

"Sorry C-Caelan … I-I don't _know_ where I am."

Caelan's brow crinkled in puzzlement at the kid's soft admittance to that. "What do you mean you don't know where you are? You're not at your dorm?"

"N-no. I … he must have drugged my drink or something. I can't … looks like an abandoned warehouse somewhere but … my wrist … Caelan; I can't get my wrist free from the handcuff."

"What?" Caelan breathed, stunned for a few seconds as he tried to process Sam's words. "Did you say _handcuffs_? Sam, what the hell happened? What's going on?" Caelan demanded, his voice beginning to rise in confusion at Sam's miserable tone.

"I – I don't know! Like I said … it's all wrong. Caelan, I … I don't know what to do."

"Easy kid," Caelan replied soothingly, hearing the kid trying to stifle his sobs once more. "Don't panic. I'll pick Dean up and we'll find you, okay?"

"No! Caelan no! P-please d-don't … I don't want … Dean _can't_ see me like this!"

Sam's panicked desperation tore at Caelan's heart, swallowing back the anxiety that Sam's words instilled in him. "Like what kid?" Caelan asked quietly. "Are you … are you _hurt_?"

"No … maybe a little but – Oh God … Caelan he's back! If he catches me on the phone … Caelan, you _have_ to let Dean and Dad know that this wasn't my choice okay? I only agreed to it to keep them safe. Please … tell them … tell them that I … I love them. Ah! No! No! Please … Don't! DEAN!"

The last thing Caelan heard before Sam's call cut out was Sam's agonized screams. "Sam! Sammy!" Caelan yelled uselessly into his phone. Someone was … torturing the kid? Fucker!

Caelan's face set in grim determination as he punched in Dean's number. First he had to find Dean, then they had to find Sammy and then … Caelan would have great pleasure in tracking down the asshole that had even _dared_ to drug, abduct and torture the youngest Winchester, and flogging the shit out of the sick bastard!

"Don't worry Sammy, we're on our way," Caelan murmured reassuringly as he waited for his best friend to answer his phone, a determined calm settling over him now that he knew what he had to do.

The sick fuck who had done this was a dead man. As soon as Caelan tracked him down, he would kill the son of a bitch; that was a promise!

 **CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH**

Dean jolted awake as if he had been electrocuted, the sound of his brother screaming his name, echoing within his mind as he bolted into a sitting position.

"Sammy?" Dean called, his eyes already scanning the unfamiliar room for threats as he automatically searched for his younger brother, his heart pounding with trepidation and fear. "Sammy, you okay?" Dean asked, his heart beginning to slow to a normal level when he determined that there were on threats within the room and nothing was attacking his brother.

 _Just a nightmare,_ Dean thought, relieved. Sammy must have woken up from another nightmare and needed his big brother to soothe and calm him down.

"Hang on little brother, I'm coming," Dean muttered as he threw the blankets off him and had his legs dangling over the side of the bed, ready to rush to his brother's side before he remembered that Sam was no longer here with him.

The familiar ache of loss and abandonment filled him before he could stop himself, still dumbfounded and completely bewildered by his younger brother who had chosen to go to school – Stanford – over staying with his family and continuing the family business of Saving People, Hunting Things and finding The Demon who had killed their mother and avenging her death.

Sure, Dean understood that Sam had never really liked the Family Business of hunting the Evil Sons of Bitches down and ganking their asses! And he understood that Sam had to live his own life, make his own choices and find himself. But what Dean couldn't understand, what he had _never_ understood, was how Sammy could completely cut his family out of his life.

It had been two years since that awful night that Sam had packed his bags and walked out on his family after a heated argument with their father. Two years since Dean had heard his voice. And in all of this time Dean had never received a call, email, letter, text or so much as a "fuck you" to let them know that he was at least still alive. If Dean didn't know any better, he would have thought that Sam had vanished from the face of the earth!

Even though Dean had tried to keep the communication alive with his brother, Sam had deliberately gone out of his way to avoid all contact from him and their father.

Why the hell would he _do_ that?

The blatant disrespect and that selfish attitude had pissed Dean off more than the fact that Sam had seemingly been okay with abandoning his family. After everything Dean had done for the kid … and this was the thanks he got!

Dean hadn't raised Sammy to be a spoilt, selfish brat. But that was exactly how Sam was behaving and Dean had been pissed off, disappointed, feeling underappreciated, missing his geeky little brother terribly.

Was it really too much to ask for Sam to return just one of his damn phone calls?! Seriously, what the hell was his problem?

Sammy should be here with them; protected, loved, safe. Instead, he was at Stanford, desperate to live a normal life, wanting nothing to do with either him or their father; and that, Dean realised, was what had pissed him off the most. Not the fact that Sam had walked away and abandoned his family for school and a "normal" life, but that he had effectively cut all ties with his family. Dad, Dean could kind of understand; but how could Sammy cut _him_ from his life? That was a question that Dean was still struggling to answer to this day.

The familiar ache of loss and abandonment filled him before Dean scrubbed his hand over his face in an attempt to get rid of the half-sleepy state of his mind.

He shook his head, frustrated and annoyed at himself. As if waking up in a blind panic because he thought Sam had screamed his name, needing him, wasn't bad enough; now, thoughts of Sam had brought up old feelings of resentment, anger, betrayal and abandonment that he had strived to ignore and bury deep down inside of him.

Although, right now, feeling kind of shaken – because damn it, that scream had seemed too damn real for his liking! – Dean felt the familiar stress and worry that had been hard-wired into him since the day his brother had been born. How the hell was he supposed to do his job to protect and watch out for Sammy if Sam never even bothered to keep in contact? How could he protect his baby brother when Sam insisted on keeping him at arm's length?

Dean sighed loudly, a sick, helpless feeling settling over him. Being helpless was not something Dean Winchester was used to feeling. He had always known what he was doing and where he going. His job was to look after his baby brother. And Dean had become quite proficient at that. It didn't matter where they were or how long their Dad was away for, Dean's number one priority had always been to look after Sammy. As long as Sam was fed, clothed and happy – free from school bullies – that was all Dean had needed to make him feel complete.

Now, with his brother gone into a life of normal, Dean was scrambling to fill that void, that gap, that ache of loneliness and uselessness now that his purpose of living had disappeared, wanting nothing more to do with either him or their father.

Dean had been pissed – furious even – when his brother had walked out on them. But now, those feelings had been replaced by a quiet, sad acceptance that his brother wouldn't be coming back anytime soon. Dean closed his eyes, trying to bury these damn emotions down deep once more as he reopened his eyes, finally taking stock of the sleeping figure beside him.

He jumped, alarmed for a few seconds before he remembered the bar, Caelan, all those tequila shots and Cindy – Mandy … Sandy – flirting with him all night until Dean had taken pity on the young woman and had agreed to go home with her.

Dean couldn't help the self-satisfied smirk that appeared as he recalled the exact reason he had manipulated and conned his best friend into getting absolutely shit-faced with him. The two of them had just finished off a hunt without the great John Winchester's help. John had been called into another hunt, with another Hunter, calling in a favour that John had owed him.

After assuring and reassuring his Dad – several hundred times – that Dean and Caelan were capable of finishing this hunt without him – he was twenty-five for God's sake and Caelan was thirty-one – Dean and Caelan had managed to finish up the hunt with relative ease.

Dean may have a few bruises and a wicked black-eye come morning, but Dean was feeling untouchable, invincible, on top of the damn world, considering that neither he nor Caelan had gotten any serious injuries that would have required stitches or a hospital visit.

And the fact that they had accomplished this hunt with near to nil risk of casualties – either to themselves or any civilians – caused Dean to want to celebrate to a whole new level, trying to counter-act the massive adrenaline rush that had been coursing through his veins because of their successful _solo_ hunt. Of course it would have been an even better night if Sammy had been there to help them celebrate their first official solo hunt without the help of the patriarch Winchester.

Dean felt the grin slip and his eyes roamed over Mandy's sleeping form, a huff of exaggerated annoyance escaping him before he could stop it. Man, he couldn't even go ten minutes without thinking about his geeky little brother.

Dean gave Tiffany one more appreciative glance before he quickly located his clothes and made a hasty exit from Sharon's – or whatever her name was – apartment and climbed into his beloved Impala, seeking out first coffee and then catching up on some much needed sleep before he and Caelan headed out in the morning to regroup with John Winchester for another hunt.

After procuring coffee for both himself and Caelan, driving back to the motel where he would meet up with Caelan, Dean couldn't help the sudden overwhelming need – the desperate urgency – that _something_ was wrong.

Dean's attention immediately snapped to his surroundings, hoping to seek the answers to these new feelings that now surged within him. But, as far as he could tell, everything seemed normal. No danger in his immediate area, trying to fight the overpowering urge to drive fast. To where, Dean had no idea. He just knew that he had to go – and now – before it was too late!

Had something happened to Sam?

Dean took a deep, steadying breath and let it out slowly, rubbing his eyes with his left hand, ignoring his instincts to get to Sam as fast as he could because his little brother was safe and sound at Stanford.

But … if Sam _did_ find himself in a spot of bother; Dean hoped that his brother would have the sense to call him. Because, no matter what happened between them, Dean's number one priority still remained the same; protect and look out for Sammy. If Sammy needed him, Dean would drop everything and be there for him, no questions asked. He just hoped that Sam knew how much he still loved his younger brother and that the urge to protect and keep him safe would never disappear, no matter what.

Dean was pulling into the motel when his phone started to ring. Dean glanced at his display screen apprehensively before he saw whose name appeared on the screen. "Fucking Caelan," Dean breathed and couldn't help the grin that surfaced as he quickly answered the phone. "Caelan, what's going on man? I thought you'd still be sleeping off all those tequila shots old man!"

"Dean … Where are you?"

Caelan's voice sounded tense, which immediately kicked Dean's Hunter instincts into gear; because if Caelan was tense then something was wrong. "Caelan, what's wrong?"

"Dean, you need to get back here. I've already packed your shit. Dude, we have to go, now!"

Caelan's serious, professional; no-argument tone had Dean's fear kick up another notch. "Whoa, hold on a minute Caelan," Dean protested, trying not to let his fear overtake him. "At least tell me what this is about." Dean paused as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Is it Dad?" He asked quietly, his heart beating faster in dread. "Has something happened to Dad?"

"Relax dude, your Dad's fine,"

Dean breathed a sigh of relief at Caelan's reassured, softened tone. "Well then, what's with all of this melodrama man? You got a bounty-hunter on your ass or something?" Dean couldn't help but tease his friend, hoping a little light-heartedness would be enough to relax Caelan a little. "Or maybe you broke some unsuspecting, innocent girl's heart and –"

"Dean … Sammy's in trouble,"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Introducing new character, Caelan Hagan. Hope you enjoy.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Mimmi85** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER TWO**

Dean Winchester loved his life. How many people could say that they woke up every morning, glad to be alive, glad to be working? Of course, not many people had the kick-ass job that Dean did; travelling the country in his baby, saving innocent people and killing evil things. And Dean knew that this was supposed to be his calling, his purpose. He was born to be a Hunter, nothing and no one could make him give up being a Hunter or tell him otherwise. After everything Dean had seen, he could say with absolute certainty and conviction that nothing scared him – not even the son of a bitch Demon that had killed his mother – and he would clock the bastard who would say so otherwise. Now Dean realised that that assumption had been completely wrong, because with just three little words, Dean's whole existence came crashing down around him.

 _Sammy's in trouble,_

Dean's words dried up upon his lips, the breath caught in his throat, his heart clenching painfully in his chest.

 _Sammy's in trouble,_

Dean's whole world narrowed down to pin-point accuracy, becoming frozen as those words slowly began to penetrate his numb mind.

 _Sammy's in trouble,_

Dean gasped in a shocked breath before time started to move forward again and he found himself outside Caelan's motel room, having no memory of parking the Impala, let alone exiting the car and striding toward Caelan's motel room.

Dean rapped upon the door, trying not to pound on the door frantically and give into his despair as he so wanted to do right now. "I'm at the door now," Dean said into the phone, his voice husky with emotion. In the next instant, Dean was face to face with his best friend, Caelan Hagen, and he was shocked at the haggard look upon his friend's face.

"Dean, good timing man," Caelan said softly, opening the door wider so that Dean could enter.

Dean breezed past Caelan without a word, becoming more freaked out by the horror he could see within his friend's brown eyes. Dean had known Caelan for eighteen years, and in all of that time he had never seen Caelan as spooked as he was now.

"Are we good to go?" Dean asked, sweeping a critical eye around the motel room, making sure that everything was packed and ready to go.

Caelan nodded wordlessly as he picked up his bags and started toward the Impala, looking as anxious as Dean was to get on the road.

Dean didn't waste time asking questions, grabbing his own gear and following Caelan out to the car. He would get answers once they were on the road. All he knew was that Sammy was in trouble and the longer he stayed here, the longer it would take to get to his brother's side.

Fifteen minutes later, the two men were in the Impala and hurtling toward Stanford – Palo Alto and Sam – at break-neck speed. Dean's hands gripped the steering-wheel tightly; his teeth clenched together, his expression determined and defiant, refusing to give into the paralysing fear that was building within him as each agonized minute passed into the next.

Finally, after gaining a little of his composure, Dean turned to look at his friend beside him with a penetrating gaze. "Okay, tell me what's going on Caelan. What's happened to Sammy?" Dean practically demanded his voice gruff and harsh at the same time.

Caelan met Dean's intense green eyes briefly before he lowered his gaze to his hands, swallowing back his confusion, alarm and anxiousness. He was determined to stay calm for Dean, no matter what; because he knew that once Dean learned of his little brother's abduction and torture … Dean would close down all modes apart from one; worried, schizoid, protective big brother mode. And someone needed to have their heads in the game.

"Caelan, what makes you think Sammy's in trouble?" Dean urged, his patience almost at its limit as Caelan still refused to answer him.

Caelan took a deep breath and let it out slowly, running a calming hand through his shoulder-length wavy black hair. "He called me," Caelan revealed, finally meeting his friend's eyes.

Dean couldn't help but shiver in apprehension at the haunted tone in his friend's voice and the look of failure within Caelan's dark eyes. Dean swallowed hard, instantly knowing that he wasn't going to like what Caelan was going to tell him, trying to steady himself as best he could as he nodded at Caelan to continue.

"Dean … Sammy … He didn't sound good man. He said that he didn't know where he was; handcuffed in some … abandoned warehouse somewhere. He thought his drink might have been drugged …

(Dean's hands tightened upon the steering-wheel almost painfully, his teeth grinding together in anger. Someone had dared to _abduct_ and _drug_ his baby brother?! Oh hell no!)

He said that he wasn't hurt too badly but … I could tell he was lying, probably trying to put on a brave face, you know? I think … possibly … Sam is being … tortured …

(Dean's eyes widened at that information. This guy was so dead! Dean was going to rip his fucking lungs out! How _dare_ he hurt his brother? Nobody messed with Dean Winchester's little brother and lived! Nobody! Dean could feel his jaw clenching and unclenching, barely able to supress his rage as Caelan continued.)

He mentioned Stanford and why … his decision … he didn't _want_ to go man. I think … I think that someone forced him to go … threatened him …

(Dean couldn't help the growl that rumbled low in his throat, becoming increasingly louder the more Caelan revealed. Sammy didn't _want_ to go? Someone had threatened him? Who? Dean wanted this fucker dead now!)

Dean … Sammy … I'm sorry but … it sounded like Sammy was calling to say goodbye. He kept pleading with me to tell you and your Dad that he hadn't _wanted_ to leave you but … apparently they threatened to hurt you if … if he didn't leave. He did it to protect you; to protect all of us." Caelan revealed, his voice cracking slightly as he tried to get his emotions under control.

Dean blinked hard, the implications of Caelan's words hitting him like a sledge-hammer to his stomach. He left to protect us? Saying goodbye? What the fuck? Hell no! No way was that kid going to give up because of some asshole (that dead fucker once Dean got his hands on him!) that had threatened, tortured, drugged and abducted his baby brother!

Dean's eyes narrowed, a calm resolve settling over him; the mission clear in his mind. Find Sammy, rescue Sammy, protect Sammy, find the sonuvabitch who had hurt Sammy and make him pay!

"Tell me everything that Sammy said Caelan," Dean demanded. "No way am I letting that kid say goodbye until I get some answers from him."

Caelan let out a deep sigh and nodded, knowing that Dean was in _hyper_ protective big brother mode and there was no way he was taking "no" for an answer!

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

 **Three Hours Earlier: Before Phone Call**

The first thing Sam Winchester became aware of was the pounding within his head and the coldness that had crept into his very bones, causing his body to shiver in an attempt to get himself warm. (Obviously he'd been here a while … wherever the hell here was!) The next thing Sam became aware of was that his left hand was handcuffed to a fixture within the wall – something that looked as if it had been put there; made specifically for him – and that he was wearing nothing but his birthday suit.

What the … ?!

Sam's jumbled thoughts slowly began to reorganize and gather themselves together. He remembered going to the local bar with a few of his close friends, deciding to have a couple of drinks at midnight because that was when today officially began. And it was a very special day for Sam (according to his friends, he had to live and extract as much from this day as he could). He remembered helping Jessica Moore – a girl which he kind of hoped would become more than a friend – into a cab, paying for her to get home and then … nothing.

Sam almost laughed out loud at the irony of being in nothing but his birthday suit considering what day it was. He was in his birthday suit, on his birthday. Yeah, that was just fucking fantastic! Some birthday this was turning out to be!

Sam groaned loudly as he looked about the abandoned warehouse, looking for a weapon, a way out, his damn bloody clothes! But as usual, they were good at their job. No clothes, no weapons and no damn way out of this freakin' place! Except … wait, was that a _phone_ sitting in the middle of the room, beyond his reach, taunting him with his only possible way out or him calling for help and getting the hell out of this dirty, damp, dark warehouse and into some clothes?

Was that _his_ phone?

Sam squinted, straining to make out the object more clearly within the faded lighting of the warehouse, deciding that it looked familiar enough that it most probably was his phone. Didn't really matter whose phone it is, Sam thought, his heart-rate beginning to accelerate with hope. It was a means to get him out of this place before something worse happened to him.

Sam shuddered involuntary as he slowly began to inch forward, reaching out as far as he could to get hold of that damn phone, pulling on the length of the extended handcuff, hearing chain on metal, testing it for any weakness that Sam could exploit. Of course there were no weaknesses, no sloppy behaviour, because these guys were pros – except for that damn phone.

Before Sam had even consciously made his move toward the object – which he really hoped was his phone – a sickening, terrifying thought made him hesitate and glance around warily, trying to search out the hidden dangers that was sure to be lurking within the shadows; because these people didn't make mistakes. They didn't leave objects in the middle of the room – especially not objects that could help Sam escape! They had _never_ made such a rookie mistake in all of the years that they had been "punishing" him; so why would they start now?

Sam couldn't help the violent shiver that ran up and down the length of his spine at the thought that this was most likely a trap. But to what end? He had already received the _punishment_. What would be the point in catching Sam in a trap now that it was all finished?

Sam frowned, knowing that this whole thing was wrong. Not only had they left behind an object that might help Sam escape – please God, let it be my phone – but Sam was positive that he wasn't supposed to wake up _here_ at all. Normally when they had finished _punishing_ him, they would drug Sam up and dump him in some cheap, unknown motel room, his wounds having been treated, bandages wrapped tightly around the deeper cuts, injuries and definitely with his God damn clothes on!

But this … here, now … it was all _wrong_. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. What did this mean? Were they going to come back and punish him some more, finish off what they had started? Or had they finally decided to leave him here to rot, starve to death; atone for his sins with the ultimate sacrifice … his life?

Sam shook his head to rid himself of those depressing thoughts, and then wished he hadn't as the sharp motion of his head made him feel dizzy and nauseous at the same time. Sam bit his bottom lip hard, waiting for the dizziness to pass before he decided to go for the object in the middle of the room. He _had_ to do something. No way was he going to just sit here, completely stark naked and wait to starve to death, shackled in some dingy, abandoned warehouse. He was a fucking Winchester and Winchesters didn't know the meaning of the word "give up".

Blinking back his nausea, Sam's expression hardened as he pulled at that damn extended handcuff, trying to inch closer to the object – and yes! He was definitely certain that it was his phone now! – determined to get to his phone, call someone for help and get him the hell out of here!

Technically, calling for help while he was being _punished_ or afterwards was against their rules, but they – _he_ – had broken the agreement first; and be damned if Sam was just going to sit here and rot. If they could break the rules, then so could he. He was going to get that damned phone, even if it was the last thing he ever did!

 **SW SW SW SW SW SW SW SW SW SW SW SW SW SW**

 **Two Hours Earlier: Before Phone Call**

Sam's head hung dejectedly, staring down at his phone, his older brother's name flashing upon his screen, his thumb hovering over the call button, hesitating to push the button that would bring his brother instantly to his side (and damn it, that's all he wanted right now, was his brother!)

But …

Trying to stifle the deep shudders that coursed through his weary and exhausted body, Sam lifted his eyes and glanced around his surroundings once more – the empty, abandoned warehouse – noticing that his left hand was still handcuffed, his wrist ripped to shreds because he had struggled to retrieve his phone, which had been almost _too_ far from his reach for the past … God, how long had he been here? Sam didn't even know now as time became inconsequential to him, only existing in the here and now.

Sam shifted slightly before remembering that his body was full of aches and pains; not only because of the beating ( _punishment_ ) he had received, but also because of the recovery of this phone which had put stress and strain on his already bruised and battered body.

Cracked or broken ribs were a definite. His nose was probably broken as well. Sam was grateful that he could no longer feel blood dripping from his body in several different locations at once – thankfully most of his wounds had clotted, especially the cut above his right eye, which had been so annoying when he had proceeded to retrieve his phone because he was sick of having to blink the blood from his eyes.

Blood from his – most likely broken – nose had eased down to a low grade drip instead of the gush it had been as the blood dripped onto his right hand. He could see the bruises already beginning to form upon his body and he refused to think about the mess his back would be in right now. Refused to think about how much the whip had hurt when it struck his back repeatedly until Sam lost consciousness.

Sam absently began to wipe the blood that had dripped upon his hand onto his jeans before he remembered that he no longer had any clothes on what-so-ever and Sam could feel his checks redden in both shame and embarrassment. Was he really going to call his big brother for help when he had walked away from his family two years ago and had no contact with them at all? Did he really want his big brother to see him like this? Shattered, broken, shaking and sobbing like a five year old?

The hand holding his phone began to shake violently, his brother's name upon his phone display beginning to blur because of the tears forming within his hazel eyes.

No.

Sam definitely didn't want his big brother – his hero – to see him like this. He didn't want _anyone_ to see him like this. But …

Sam weakly pulled at the handcuffs once more (maybe this time his hand would slip magically out of the cuffs and he would be free!) But nothing was budging, the cuffs digging deeper into his already bleeding, red raw wrist.

"Fuck!" Sam swore softly as he rested the back of his head against the wall, staring up at the abandoned warehouse's ceiling, uncertain about what his next move should be as exhaustion began to creep over his mind and body.

Maybe it would be okay if he just rested for a while. Just rested enough so that he could gather his frazzled thoughts together enough for him to figure out what his next move should be in order for him to get the hell out of here.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he shouldn't fall asleep, he shouldn't be resting until he had gotten free and escaped this dreadful nightmare! But he couldn't fight the urge to rest. And almost against his will, he could feel his eyes slipping closed.

"Dean," Sam sighed longingly, wistfully as his body and mind slowly sunk down toward oblivion, a lone tear slipping slowly down his check.

 **TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Introducing new character, Caelan Hagan. Hope you enjoy.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Mimmi85** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER THREE**

Dean ran an anxious hand through his short dark blonde hair, shooting his friend horrified glances as Caelan finished telling him about the phone call he had received from Sam earlier. "Holy shit," Dean whispered, stunned at the account. "Sammy didn't _want_ to go to college? He didn't want to go to Stanford?"

Caelan shrugged, trying to squash down his own emotions after recounting the whole conversation to Dean. "Seems like," he answered non-committedly, trying to keep his voice and tone neutral.

He had to remain calm. He had to be in control. Because Caelan knew that once the shock had worn off, Dean would do anything in his power to get to his brother as fast as he could, becoming reckless to achieve his goal was inevitable. Caelan had to have his own turbulent emotions in check so that he would be able to ground Dean in the present when Dean's emotions spilled over the top, entering his dangerous – someone hurt Sammy and now they are _dead_ – mind frame.

Dean shot Caelan a puzzled look at the almost cavalier reply. "What about this "agreement" that Sam mentioned? What do you think it means?"

Caelan cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable as he had a disturbing inkling as to what that meant. He hesitated, not sure if he should reveal his suspicions to Dean or not.

"What?" Dean demanded when he saw the hesitant look upon his friend's face. "What are you thinking Caelan? Do you know something that I should know?" He asked, becoming apprehensive at his friend's continued silence. "Caelan! What aren't you tell me man?"

"No … nothing." Caelan shook his head, a little hurt by Dean's doubtful, insinuating tone. "You know everything I do man … promise," he added when he saw Dean's sceptical look.

"Okay," Dean replied, seeing that Caelan held no deception within his brown eyes. "So, what's with this guilty act then, dude?"

Caelan let out an exaggerated sigh and decided to just let Dean in on his suspicions, even though he knew that Dean would feel guilty as hell afterward. "I _might_ have a theory … kind of …" Caelan began hesitantly, shooting Dean a worried look.

Dean schooled his expression to remain impassive and calm. "Okay. Go on,"

"Well, from what I can gather, Sam obviously had an "agreement" with multiple people … considering he said _they_ broke the agreement."

"Right," Dean agreed. "Makes sense. But … what _sort_ of an agreement?"

Caelan shook his head, bitting upon his lip as he fought to put together all of the pieces of this "verbal" puzzle that Sam had given him... "I'm not entirely sure, but from what Sam said, it entailed him to leave for Stanford; leave his family behind, having no contact with us at all … He left to protect us …" Leaving the youngest Winchester vulnerable, alone and susceptible to future attacks.

Dean closed his eyes, reopening them a few seconds later, trying to control the rage that coiled within him. He would have time to vent his anger later, he was sure, but right now he needed a clear head. And in order to think logically, he needed to push his rage down. "Yeah, okay, but … to what end Caelan? Why would _they_ go to all of this trouble to send Sam away from us and forbidding him to contact us? It doesn't make any logical sense man,"

"I think that maybe it does Dean," Caelan replied, his tone low and dark. "Especially if their purpose was to separate Sam from us so that they could gain access to him whenever they wanted … or needed to."

Dean's expression darkened at the implications of Caelan's words, because if this was true … then everyone – John, Caelan and Dean – had failed in their core responsibility of keeping the youngest Winchester safe. "Yeah … but _why_?"

Caelan cleared his throat, his dark tone vanishing, hearing the pain and self-incrimination within his friend's voice. "I don't know man," Caelan said softly, hesitating a moment so that he could regather his thoughts. "What I don't like is how Sam kept mentioning being _tainted_ and _cursed_ or the … _punishments_ …"

Dean flinched at those words, his green eyes narrowing dangerously at what "punishments" actually entailed or what it could mean. "Yeah, well, he's wrong." Dean growled. "Sam isn't tainted _or_ cursed. Don't know where the fuck he got that idea from."

"From … _them_ , I would assume," Caelan replied, gripping his hands together in an effort to remain calm as the next piece of his "theory" became clear to him. "And if that's the case, then it's safe to say that these … "punishments" have been happening for a while." Caelan paused, glancing over at Dean to gage his friend's reaction, noticing that apart from white-knuckling the steering-wheel, Dean's expression remained (painfully) neutral (Dean managing to control his emotions for now).

"The way that Sam spoke about being tainted and cursed," Caelan continued, his eyes returning to his clenched hands. "It was almost like … it had been repeated to him, over and over, drummed into him. And if that's true … then it's logical to assume that these "punishments" have been happening for years."

"But that's impossible!" Dean argued, beginning to hate Caelan's "theory" with a passion. "If Sam had been … _punished_ for years, we would have noticed. There would have been signs …"

Caelan turned to look at Dean and Dean couldn't help but gasp at the haunted look within Caelan's brown eyes. "But there were signs Dean. Once you sit back and think about it … there were signs. We just didn't have any reason to suspect that anything was wrong and that's why we missed them completely." Caelan concluded his voice fill of sadness and regret.

"What signs?" Dean demanded, angry now and insulted; because in an indirect way, Caelan was telling Dean that he hadn't been doing his big brother duties. He hadn't been protecting or looking out for Sammy. And Dean refused to believe that he had been that oblivious to his little brother's _punishments_. He would have noticed, damn it! He knew everything about that kid. And if Sammy was being _hurt_ by someone, Dean would have noticed it.

"Relax Dean; I'm not having a go at you here man. All of this … it's on me too."

"What signs?" Dean repeated through gritted teeth, his attention focused upon the road before him.

Caelan swallowed back a sigh and proceeded with caution. "Nothing that would stand out on its own," Caelan quickly assured his friend. "And really, its things that happen to children all of the time.

( _Children_?! Dean's jaw clenched tightly, unwilling to believe that _his_ Sammy had been hurt by _people_ for God knows how many years. It wouldn't happen. It was impossible. Caelan was _wrong_ , damn it!)

For instance," Caelan continued. "Being afraid of the dark …his nightmares … his clingy, needy attitude …" Caelan counted them off on his fingers, ignoring the fact that his friend was _grinding_ his teeth beside him and growling. "And then, of course, there's the big sign which should have clued us into something being terribly and horribly wrong … the panic attacks."

"Oh c'mon Caelan! Really?!" Dean exploded incredulously. "You're trying to tell me that Sam being afraid of the dark and having nightmares were signs of Sam being _punished_? Sam's _always_ been a needy, clingy kid, that's just who he is. It doesn't mean that –"

"Like I said Dean, they are all afflictions that most _normal_ children suffer with from time to time in their lives." Caelan quickly interjected. "But … I've been thinking it over and … I find it strange that Sam would use the words _tainted_ and _cursed_ to describe himself. It's … odd that _they_ would tell Sam that … use those specific words … It sort of makes you think that maybe _they_ would have to know about the history of your family, don't you think?"

Dean cocked an eyebrow questioningly, the churning sensation within his stomach telling him that he wouldn't like where this conversation was heading as he felt his body tense expectantly.

"About your mother's death," Caelan clarified so softly that Dean almost had to strain to hear what he was saying. "More specifically … _how_ she died." Caelan finished off in a rush, noticing Dean's right eye begin to twitch violently.

Yep. He was pissed. And Caelan knew that Dean would be pissed as soon as he had brought Dean's mother into this. Even after all of these years, Dean still had trouble dealing with and accepting her death. He carried a lot of unnecessary guilt concerning her death. Even though Dean had been just a kid, he still felt that he should have been able to save her that night. Caelan knew that no one would or _could_ blame him for not being able to save his mother, but Dean still carried that guilt around as if the whole tragic accident had been his fault!

Caelan shook his head in frustration. Damn Winchester stubbornness and pride! All three of the Winchesters had an unhealthy obsession with placing the guilt and blame of things they had no control over upon themselves. Caelan wished that he could ease his friend's misplaced and misguided guilt, but he knew that no matter what he said or did, Dean would always carry that regret and guilt around.

Dean instinctively wanted to sock Caelan in the jaw for having the audacity of bringing his dead mother into this. But Dean resisted that temptation, knowing that his friend wasn't purposely trying to hurt Dean, he was trying to help … even if his "theory" was _way_ off base and delusional at best. But then Caelan's words began to fit together like puzzle pieces and it all began to make a horrible, sick kind of sense.

Dean recalled the times that Sam would show symptoms of all of the so-called "signs" that Caelan had mentioned – being afraid of the dark, nightmares, clinginess and the panic attacks – and now that Dean thought about it, there was a definite pattern. Sam would show all of these "signs" for roughly about one to two months and then most of them would start to die down or tapper off completely.

Being afraid of the dark was one of the first Sam would dispose of after one month (he had to sleep with a light on for at least two weeks straight). The clinginess wouldn't completely go away but it would die down to being bearable and Sam-like four weeks after his fear of darkness dissipated. The panic attacks never really left Sam, although he learned – with Dean's help – how best to manage and control them so that he didn't have a full-blown panic attack every second day. Normally after his clinginess had settled down, Sam would have a full-blown panic attack maybe once a month until he turned sixteen and then it was once every six months (that Dean knew about). The nightmares though, had plagued Sam for most of his life. But they too eventually died down until one or two a month. Although most nights Dean had been awoken by his brother's whimpers and Dean would get up, sit by his brother's bed and hold his hand, rubbing his thumb soothingly along the back of Sam's hand until he calmed down and fell into a more peaceful and undisturbed sleep.

Dean had never thought to investigate any further as to _why_ Sam had suddenly developed panic attacks; he had just assumed that it was a manifestation of the nightmares that had plagued his younger brother his whole life. But the pattern was the same. Every year, without fail (and why the _fuck_ had Dean not put this together before now?) Dean would have to help his younger brother combat and conquer those symptoms.

And now that Dean thought about it (Yeah _now_! What about when this had been _happening_ , damn it?) these childhood symptoms; issues; _signs_ would increase dramatically two weeks before a specific date; a specific anniversary that all of the Winchesters were not immune to – November 2nd – the day the Demon killed Mary Winchester and changed all of their lives forever.

Sonuvabitch! Holy crap! Caelan _was_ right; Sammy _had_ been _punished_ ; possibly for … years! But why? And who the hell would bother to punish a kid on that specific date? Who else _knew_ the date of his mother's death and the circumstances surrounding it?

Dean's eyes widened as realization dawned upon him. Fuck no! It was impossible! But yet it made perfect sense.

Dean's hands shook violently as he quickly steered the Impala onto the side of the road and shut off the engine, his world narrowing until the only thing he could hear was his harsh gasps of air, realising the implications this revelation would cause.

"Dean … what's wrong? Are you okay man?" Caelan's almost frantic voice reached Dean's muted ears. "Dude! C'mon … you're really starting to freak me out here,"

Slowly Dean turned toward Caelan, swallowing back the bile that threatened to erupt and licked his dry lips in an effort to allow himself to get the words out of his mouth. "You asked who would do this to Sammy and why, right."

Dean saw Caelan nod out of the corner of his eye. "Well … I think … the only _people_ that know about the _true_ circumstances of my mother's death are … Hunters."

 **DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW**

 **One Hour Earlier: Before Phone Call**

Sam's eyelids fluttered open as he was brought back into the land of consciousness, a groan emanating from him at the pulsing ache of his handcuffed wrist, arm and shoulder because it was pulled taunt; almost as if he had tried to yank it free while he had been unconscious.

Very carefully, Sam manoeuvred back until he released the tension upon his shoulder and wrist, breathing a sigh of relief now that most of the pulsating ache had dissipated.

Sam could have kicked himself for his naivety and gullibility. He had believed them when they said that if he left his family, having no communication with them, then he would no longer have to receive _punishments_ to atone for his sins.

His father and brother wouldn't have to live with the knowledge of knowing that Sam had been _tainted_ by the Demon who had killed his mother above his crib when he was six months old. They wouldn't have to know that the Demon had come for him that night, and because his mother had tried to protect him, the Demon had murdered her instead; because of him.

They wouldn't have to live in shame, fear or embarrassment of their brother and son being tainted, cursed, a … Demon Spawn, the Winchester name becoming sullied, ridiculed, laughed about, his family becoming shunned within the Hunters community all because of him and his unforgivable sins.

If he left and never contacted them again, ridding them of the _curse_ that flowed through his veins, they would never learn just how weak and pathetic Sam really was. His family would never learn how Sam had _allowed_ those people to _punish_ him for the last eleven years; allowed them to beat him, torture him and to finally break him by …

Sam quickly cut his thoughts off before they could go _there_. He did not want to think about that. He didn't not want his family to know of the shame and humiliation Sam had felt while they beat and tortured him, telling him _why_ he had to atone for his sins; why he was being _punished_ while they – _he_ – finally broke him when Sam turned eighteen years old and finally giving into their demands, deciding to save his family – not only the embarrassment, shame and humiliation that he would bring to the Winchester name – but also to protect his brother and father; to spare their lives. Because it was only a matter of time before he got them killed, just like he had his mother.

And so … like the coward he truly was … Sam agreed to walk away from his family and let them live their lives in peace while Sam had tried to come to grips with his whole world shattering around him.

Sam knew that he could have told his father, his brother, about his punishments, and he probably would have told them before it had ever reached the breaking point, but … they had threatened his brother.

They told Sam that if he didn't keep his mouth shut about this, then they would start their "punishments" upon Dean; letting Dean know that it was Sam's fault for him being punished like that.

That was something Sam would _never_ allow to happen. Punish him as much as they wanted, but leave his brother out of it. He was innocent and had already given up a lot to look after Sam. Dean had lost his childhood, his innocence, his freedom to go out with his friends, have a girlfriend, go to college, and go on hunts with their father because Sam was too young, too sick, and too stubborn to move to the next town …

So Sam had kept his mouth shut. And when the time came, he had walked away, abandoning his family. It was the least he could do for Dean so that Dean was no longer shackled to Sam, having no choice but to protect him, to look after him, to comfort him or to … love …

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. God, he wanted … needed his big brother so badly right now. He would give _anything_ to hear his brother's confident, calm voice; for Dean to tell him that everything would be okay, for Dean to know that Sam hadn't selfishly abandoned his family … abandoned him.

Never.

Sam would _never_ willingly abandon Dean. He craved the safety, the security, the comfort that only his big brother could provide. But … even if he did make the call, would Dean even answer his call for help? How stupid was it of Sam to think that Dean would drop everything and come running to save his little brother just because he was in trouble … yet again?

Sam stared down at his phone once more, seeing his brother's beloved name upon his phone's display, hesitating as the ramifications of what placing this call would actually incur. Dean would have to be told _everything_ in order for Sam to be able to protect his family from being hunted because of him. Sam would have to tell Dean _everything_.

Sam swallowed hard as another horrible thought struck him. What if Sam placed the call to his brother, Dean picked up, realised it was Sam and then cut the call, refusing to speak to Sam at all? Sam chewed on his lower lip worriedly, knowing _that_ was what scared him the most.

Rejection.

Sam didn't care if his brother found out about his "punishments". Sam didn't even care if Dean found out he was the cause of their mother's death – although it would hurt like hell to admit that to his brother – or that his family's name would be shunned and humiliated because their youngest family member was Demon Spawn.

No, none of that paled in comparison to the fear of being rejected by the one person who he loved with his whole being, idolized and hero-worshiped; the one person who he would die for in an instant, without the slightest hesitation.

Being rejected by Dean would be the worst thing that could ever happen to Sam. It would hurt more than all of the punishments that Sam had endured and received throughout the years. Because being rejected by your hero meant that Dean had given up on him completely and Sam couldn't live with the knowledge that Dean no longer believed in him anymore.

Sam let the phone drop uselessly at his side, feeling defeated, dejected, hopelessly and utterly alone; his will to seek help from his big brother beginning to fade and vanish. "Dean!" Sam cried miserable, clutching the phone within his right hand tightly and couldn't help the tears that poured down his checks.

What the hell did he do now?

 **TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Introducing new character, Caelan Hagan. Hope you enjoy. I struggled with the last chapter with trying to explain what is going on. I hope that everyone understood what I meant … It made sense in my head!

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Mimmi85** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER FOUR**

Caelan's eyes widened at Dean's words and then narrowed as all of the pieces of the puzzle finally began to make sense.

"Hunters," Caelan murmured in both disbelief and resignation. "Fucking Hunters!" Caelan repeated and Dean could easily hear the outrage and treachery within his friend's voice. "Fuck! _Why_ would _Hunters_ do this man? We're supposed to _help_ people, not fucking torture them!"

"I don't know Caelan. But I will tell you one thing I know for certain," Dean's expression hardened. "I'm going to track down every one of those bastards who did this to Sammy and make them wish they'd never been born!" Dean vowed vehemently. "And anyone else who knew about his or even _thought_ that Sammy needed to be punished … they're going to regret the day that they fucked with the Winchesters!"

Caelan's eyes grew round at his best friend's promise for vengeance and blood. He understood his friend's rage at finding out that _Hunters_ had been hurting his brother for years; people that they had grown up with and trusted … to turn around and _hurt_ a member of their extended family … It made Caelan violently ill just thinking about it. But they didn't _know_ any of this for sure. They didn't know if Sam had been punished for years. And even though Caelan had come up with a theory that made this scenario distinctly plausible … they had _no_ solid proof that this had even happened.

They had to tread carefully. Announcing that you were going after other Hunters … wasn't really a declaration you wanted to make lightly. Hunters tended to get pissed off if you went gunning for them for no reason at all. If they weren't careful and didn't work this out correctly … the two of them could have every Hunter after _their_ asses!

 **DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW**

 **Thirty Minutes Earlier: Before Phone Call**

Sam's expression set into determination as he picked up his phone, deciding that he was getting out of here one way or another. And if that meant that he had to face his big brother's wrath, ridicule, pity, rejection or hate, then that's what Sam would do.

Still, maybe he didn't _need_ to get his brother involved just yet. Sam may have been able to handle a lot from his brother, but he couldn't _allow_ Dean to see him like this (naked, vulnerable, weak). He wanted to spare his brother the humiliation of finding his baby brother in an abandoned warehouse, shackled, beaten and naked. What in the hell did that say about the Winchester name? And what if this somehow got back to the great John Winchester?

Sam shuddered at the thought. No. His Dad and brother couldn't _find_ him like this. Hopefully they _never_ had to find out about this … ever! Which left only one person Sam could think of who was close to the Winchesters and would offer some sort of a discreet nature to Sam's unusual predicament.

"Caelan," Sam whispered as he quickly scrolled down the names until he came to Caelan's and quickly pushed the button to connect the call before he changed his mind. He couldn't die here; shackled like some … helpless _normal_ victim … like some damn damsel in distress! He was a Winchester, damn it, and it was time for him to at least act like it!

But as soon as Sam heard Caelan's less than friendly gruff greeting that reminded Sam of familiarity, of his brother and his home, Sam couldn't help but sob in both relief and fear. "C-C-Caelan," Sam stuttered, hoping beyond hope that his friend could tell from Sam's desperate tone that he was in trouble and needed help.

 **SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW**

Dean sat in the driver's seat of the Impala, trying to wrap his mind around things, trying to control the sudden rage that surged within him; trying to rain in his turbulent, conflicting emotions as he saw Caelan look at him several times with concerned, wary eyes. Obviously he had something to say, but didn't quite know where to begin or how the younger Hunter would take it.

"Dean," Caelan began hesitantly, not wanting to get the oldest Winchester sibling any angrier than he was at the moment. "I … we don't know if _any_ of this is true." He said cautiously.

Dean turned to look at Caelan skeptically. Was he freaking kidding?! He'd been the one trying to convince Dean of Sam's continual years of _punishments_ not more than five minutes ago!

"Now, wait a minute and hear me out before you shoot me down completely, okay?" Caelan pleaded, his hands held up in a soothing, non-aggressive manner.

Dean opened his mouth, about to argue with Caelan, but then thought better of it as Dean closed his mouth and slightly tilted his head to the side, giving Caelan the go ahead to continue. The least he could do after being friends for eighteen years was to hear him out.

"Right, thanks," Caelan nodded his appreciation. "Now I know that _I_ was the one who suggested that this had been going on for years … but we don't _know_ that for a fact. In fact, we don't know any damn thing for certain. All we've got is speculation at best. We _need_ to take our time with this one, dude. We can't go round _threatening_ other Hunters until we've got some damn hard evidence … you get me Dean?

Mouthing off and making threats … It's not going to work against other Hunters man. All that's going to do is piss them off and then we may never get to the bottom of this. We _have_ to do this like professionals, okay man? We can't lose our cool … until we know for sure …"

"Really Caelan?!" Dean couldn't help but interrupt, his voice low, quiet, seething with barely controlled fury, his tone dripping with disdain and sarcasm. "You're lecturing _me_ about being professional? You are such a hypocrite, man! You have _no_ right to lecture me. Or do I have to remind you of the incident back in '93?"

Caelan's mouth dropped open in surprise, his shocked, hurt eyes locking onto Dean's intense bitter gaze. Dean had thrown _that_ incident back in his face?! Caelan snapped his mouth closed, his brown eyes narrowed in hurt and pain. "No Dean, you don't," Caelan replied coldly. "I get the message loud and clear."

Dean blinked at the shocked, hurt look within his friend's eyes and couldn't believe the words that had come out of his mouth. He could have kicked himself for bringing that up. It wasn't like him to be this petty and cruel (especially not toward Caelan, who was more like his know-it-all big brother).

"Fuck!" Dean exhaled softly. "Caelan … shit man, I shouldn't have …"

"No, you're right Dean. I _don't_ have the right to lecture you." Caelan interrupted, avoiding Dean's eyes, his tone low, hurt and pissed.

Damn!

Dean ran a hand through his hair, sighing loudly. He had to fix this. He _needed_ Caelan – not just to help him find Sam – but because he was Dean's _brother_. And Dean hated it when either of his brothers were hurt. He especially hated it when he was the one who had done the hurting. Dean wished he wasn't like that. But when he was pissed and hurting, sometimes the only way he could lash out and hurt the other person was by spouting mean and hurtful things. It may have been the truth, but Dean had a _talent_ for nearly bringing men to their knees with the lethal silver-tongued barrage of true, hurtful words that struck a man deep and left them wounded years later.

"Caelan, come on man … I shouldn't have … that was a low blow, even for me and I don't care if you want to take a swing at me for it. Hell, I'll even let you get one in for free after that comment. But I _need_ you man." Dean couldn't help but plead as he looked upon his friend's unmoving stance.

Dean closed his eyes and tried again as he reopened his eyes, letting his emotional barriers down, letting Caelan see just how sorry he was and how guilty he felt for causing his _brother_ this emotional pain.

"Caelan … I'm sorry man. That … back in '93 … I get it man, I really do. Hell, I would have probably done the same bloody thing. It was your Dad, dude. You had to … follow the evidence … even if it turned out that … Hunters might have been involved with his death. You had to follow every lead there was man …"

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, tears suddenly prickling in the back of his eyes. "I was an ass for bringing it up. I'm sorry. I just … I just want to find Sammy man. And I … I need your help to do that. Caelan … brother … will you _please_ help me find Sammy?"

 **DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW**

 **Seconds During/After Phone Call**

Sam felt the phone torn from his grasp and thrown across the room before he felt a fist connect with his jaw, the ring on the man's finger cutting and splitting his lip open.

Sam shook his head, dazed, trying to stay conscious as he sensed – rather than saw – the man standing over him. "Ah!" Sam gasped, his eyes widening in terror when he noticed what the man held in his hand. "No! No!"

Sam tried to scramble backwards as fast as he could, trying to escape this particular punishment. But, being handcuffed and shackled to the wall, Sam could only go so far before he was jerked to a stop.

In a last ditch effort to escape this … _punishment_ , Sam faced his attacker, his eyes wide, trying to appeal to the humanity within the man. "Please," Sam couldn't help but plead, hoping his puppy-eyes would be enough to stop what he knew was going to happen next.

The man paid no mind to Sam's desperate, humble plea as he kicked Sam in the jaw, sending the boy sprawling upon his back before the man placed his right foot upon Sam's left wrist, his left knee shoved down upon Sam's chest (effectively stopping Sam's feeble attempts at escape).

The man leaned closer to Sam so that he could peer into Sam's horrified eyes as he extended Sam's left arm, raising the branding iron and …

"Don't! DEAN!" Sam couldn't help the agonized scream that tore from him when the branding iron was forced down upon his bare skin (in between his collarbone and upper shoulder of his left arm).

"Fuck! You son of a bitch!" Sam cussed as loudly as he could – considering the bastard's knee was still upon his upper chest – tears prickling within his eyes at the intense heat and all-encompassing pain that radiated out from his shoulder-blade and all the way down his arm.

Fucking sick psychotic asshole! What the fuck had _he_ branded upon him?

Seeing that his tormentor was distracted by Sam's pain, an excited gleam within his demented eyes as he towered above his captive (removing the knee from his chest, so that Sam could breathe properly); Sam noticed that as he crept closer to inspect his handiwork, he had let his guard down.

Sam quickly rolled to his right, bending his left leg and extended it as fast as he could, aiming to kick the bastard in the shins. But … Sam's aim was way off by a mile and the kick had no strength in it at all.

 _He_ retaliated quickly, by giving Sam a swift, hard kick in the ribs.

"Nuahh!" Sam hissed in agony, knowing that the second way of his "punishment" had begun as he strived to keep the unconsciousness at bay, rolling onto his left side in an unconscious effort to protect the area that _he_ had just kicked.

"Well little _Sammy_ , you shouldn't have broken the _rules_ to our agreement then, should you?" He mocked, his voice calm, controlled and amused all at once.

"I-it's Sam … asshole!" Sam gasped, blinking away his tears of anguish as he tried to shuffle his body into a sitting position. But all he could really achieve was to lift his head and shoulders up from the ground. "And you're … the one w-who br-broke it first!" Sam declared, glaring up at this sick fuck defiantly, willing his body to stop shaking, trying to show this _man_ that Sam was not intimidated by his actions at all (even though there were suddenly two images of the sicko and Sam's body trembled with abuse and exhaustion).

A smirk appeared on the man's lips before he crouched down next to Sam, placing his right foot upon Sam's left wrist – which was already torn to shreds because of the handcuffs – before he grabbed a handful of Sam's hair and violently pulled his head up so that Sam could see the sadistic smirk upon his captor's face.

"Hmm … I suppose that _is_ true," he agreed, delighting in the extreme effort that it took for Sam to keep in his cries of suffering. "But only _I'm_ allowed to break the rules … in honour of your special day … _Sammy_ ," his foot applied more pressure upon Sam's already abused wrist, gripping Sam's hair firmly as he leaned over, his mouth close to Sam's ear (And Sam couldn't help but shiver at the feel of this sicko's breath against his ear).

"Don't you want to know what I branded onto your body _Sammy_?" he taunted, his free hand not so gently tracing the out-line of the white-hot, singed, bloody brand, causing Sam to bite upon his bottom lip to keep his screams to himself, reflectively jerking in an effort to stop this fucker from poking and prodding at his newly acquired wound, more concerned with staying awake than trying to escape (although escaping would be good right about now, especially if this fucker dropped dead in front of him!).

Sicko chuckled in demented delight, watching as the young man struggled beneath him, pleased that this … _thing's_ spirit wasn't broken yet. He revelled in the knowledge of more horrendous torture to come. He _would_ break this … _thing_. He didn't care how long it took. And then … he would claim little Sammy Winchester for his own.

"What you have branded upon your body is my very _special_ signature of brand." He paused; his eyes flickering down toward the recently added mark upon the young … boy/ _thing_ … beneath him and felt a shiver of pride and excitement fill him. "Not only does it represent the organisation that I work for, but now … whenever people see you … or you look at yourself … _everyone_ will know that you belong to me!" He whispered with pleasure. "My very own _Demon Spawn_ ,"

Sam couldn't help but wince at those words. Demon Spawn. It wasn't as if he hadn't been called that before. Since his _punishments_ started, that would be what they would call him – Demon Spawn – instead of his given name – Sam Winchester – as Sam tried to ponder this apparent _organisation_ that this bastard belonged to; but the amount of thrilling excitement that he heard within Sicko's whispered words made Sam's blood turn cold with trepidation, making it impossible for him to concentrate on anything else right now. This was _not_ going to end well.

"To do with as I please," he continued gleefully. "Whatever shall I do with my very own _Demon Spawn_?" Slowly, he extended his tongue, letting it hover at the base of Sam's neck, hesitating – not in fear of what he was about to do, but in excitement – before he ran his tongue from the base of Sam's neck, all the way up to his temple, his smile growing broader as he felt Sam shudder in revolution beneath him, making sure that Sam could see the delight within his eyes, while he saw the growing fear within the young … _thing's_ eyes. "Oh yes little _Sammy_ , you and me are going to have so much _fun_ together."

Sam's eyes widened at the suggestive tone within Sicko's voice, shaking his head in an effort to get this nut-job to release his hair, catching sight of a scar beneath Sicko's mask – which covered the back of his head and nose, leaving his eyes and lips exposed – that started beneath his left jaw and went … all the way up to his left eye, Sam noticed as his head was jerked back even further to the point of him looking into his tormentor's pale blue eyes.

Sam made a mental note to store those identifying marks within his memory (they would be helpful for when he eventually tracked this sicko down and dealt to him in the Winchester style!)

"And as a _very_ special treat – because today is a very special day for you after all – I'm going to let you in on a little secret." Sicko offered reasonably, almost as if he was doing Sam a favour.

Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes at this psycho's tone. "Let me guess … all of this was a _little_ misunderstanding and you're setting me free …" Sam retorted sarcastically.

"You are funny little Demon Spawn!" He chuckled humourlessly. "But no. Nobody is setting you free." He said in a cold voice. "My secret is … my Dad and your Dad … have _hunted_ together a few times over the years."

Sam couldn't help the shocked gasp that escaped him as Sicko's words registered. "Your Dad and … you … you're a _Hunter_?!" Sam exclaimed incredulously. "But … why? Why are you doing this? Why … have me … pun-punished? I don't … I don't understand!"

Sicko relented the hold the hold he had upon Sam's neck, holding Sam's head at his captor's eye level as he grinned and shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "My father has his reasons; Grand and noble reasons in fact. Me … I just love to see you tortured, begging to be released, begging for forgiveness … It makes me harder than any girl with big boobs ever would."

He applied more pressure to Sam's mangled wrist (Sam was sure he had something snap) before he ruthlessly flipped Sam onto his stomach (Sam saw black spots dance in front of his eyes, definitely hearing a crack and popping sound come from his shoulder as his whole body weight fell upon his arm as Sicko flung him onto his stomach without any regards to his trapped limb, Sam's scream tearing from him before he even registered that he was screaming) as Sicko's left knee was strategically placed upon his lower back as a deterrent – and a warning – to prevent Sam from planning to escape.

Sicko let go of Sam's hair – finally! – running his fingers up and down the weeping whip marks upon Sam's back. "What can I say kid? I guess I fell in love with you when you were ten years old. And now that I have _branded_ you … you finally belong to me. Think of it as a _birthday_ present from me to you." He whispered, a moan of desire escaping him as he rubbed himself against Sam's naked hip. "And by the end of tonight … you will belong to me in more _intimate_ ways … if you know what I mean," he promised.

Sam, who was on the verge of blacking out – because of his (possible) broken wrist and (probable) dislocated shoulder – suddenly snapped back to reality as Sicko's words and actions began to register within his mind.

Sam closed his eyes, trying not to let the panic and fear over take him, trying not to antagonize this crazy bastard anymore, swallowing back his urge to dry-wretch as he _felt_ this psychotic sicko's growing excitement.

"Wh-what reasons?" Sam choked out, ignoring the way that _he_ was beginning to grind more forcefully into Sam's exposed hip, trying to keep this … nut-job talking instead of … Sam bit upon his bottom lip, refusing to let those thoughts or images enter his mind at the moment.

"Sorry?" the sick bastard murmured distractedly, stopping his grinding action – Sam sighed in relief – as his hands moved further down Sam's back; his touch soft, tender and almost loving.

Sam swallowed hard, trying not to think about where _his_ hands were right now. His main goal was to distract Sicko for as long as possible. Well, at least until Caelan arrived to safe him (if Caelan could even find him that is!).

"Your Dad," Sam elaborated. "You said your Dad had no-noble reasons for … punishing me. What noble reasons could a man – a _Hunter_ – have in torturing an innocent kid?" Sam spat out bitterly before he even registered what he had said.

Sicko paused before Sam felt his head smash into the concrete floor beneath him. "You mind your tone when talking about my father _Demon Spawn_!" He retorted, his tone cold and harsh before he chuckled softly, darkly. "I know what you're trying to do _little Sammy_ ," he cooed as he ran his fingers through Sam's unruly light brown hair.

Sam blinked furiously, trying to fight the darkness that threatened to engulf and embrace him, Sicko's words barely making any sense to him at all.

"You're stalling," Sicko continued, his teeth nipping cruelly along Sam's exposed neck and jawline, leaving red, inflamed skin in its wake. "So … why don't you be a good … _boy_ and tell me who you were talking to when I walked in?"

Sam stared up at his tormentor defiantly, telling him to go screw himself as his hazel eyes narrowed in stubbornness.

"I see," Sicko sighed regretfully as he slowly got to his feet and pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket, staring down at the wilful young _thing_ beneath him. "I guess you leave me no choice then. Just one quick call and I can guarantee that your Daddy will have a very bad "hunting" accident." He threatened, not flinching from the young man's defiant glare. "Are you willing to risk your Daddy's life on your stubborn Winchester pride?" The man asked, grinning when he noticed a touch of fear leap into the _thing's_ hazel eyes.

 **TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes. This chapter is a little bit darker with more violence, torture and sexual abuse.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Introducing new character, Caelan Hagan. Hope you enjoy.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Isdugat** for your kind words. I'm glad you like it. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER FIVE**

 **Now**

"Don't believe I can do it, huh?" Sam's kidnapper taunted, pleased to notice that Sam seemed to express a little fear, but the _thing_ still had too much defiance for the man's liking. Oh well, it would be fun to watch this Demon Spawn – _my_ Demon Spawn – go down another notch on his plan to finally break this stubborn young _thing_.

"Well, let me tell you another little secret," he squatted down beside Sam's shackled arm and not so gently yanked the _thing_ into a sitting position, grinning happily when he heard Sam's cries of pain, Sam's left arm hanging uselessly at his side, beads of sweat upon his brown from the excoriating pain he was in. "My Dad and your Dad are working a case together, even as we speak. All I have to do is place a call to my father and your Daddy will never be seen or heard from ever again."

Sam's eyes widened with horror as understanding hit him. If he didn't tell this … _asshole_ exactly what he wanted to know then Sam would indirectly be responsible for his own father's death(his worst fear coming to life). He knew he'd get his family killed one day. And now it looked as if that day had finally come.

"Wait!" Sam gasped as Sicko deliberately put his phone on speaker and Sam could hear the dialling of a number.

"Ten seconds little Demon Spawn," his abductor said, amused at the young _thing's_ horror-stricken expression. "Before your Daddy is sacrificed in the hunt to save an innocent Hunter's life."

Sam's stomach clenched in dread at the decision that was laid out before him. If he didn't tell him who Sam had called, then his father would die. If Sam _did_ tell him, then Caelan would most likely die. It was a no win situation. Either way, someone Sam cared about and loved would die today … because of him.

Sam closed his eyes, grappling with the most difficult decision he had ever faced. This is what happened when Sam broke _their rules_. Sam reopened his eyes a few seconds later, tears within his eyes, his decision made, praying for God to have mercy on his soul for what he was about to do. "Okay, I'll tell you." Sam said in defeat. "Hang up the phone and I'll tell you, okay?"

Sicko searched Sam's eyes for a long heart beat before he smiled in triumph as he ended the call and turned to face Sam expectantly. "You've made the right decision," he murmured approvingly, running gentle fingers up and down Sam's check.

Sam flinched from Sicko's touch, but there was nowhere for him to go, swallowing back his revolution at being _touched_ by this psychotic sicko in such an intimate and comforting gesture.

"Tell me who you called," the man urged softly and Sam couldn't help but notice the pleased and excited gleam within this man's pale eyes.

Sam hung his head, ashamed, but knowing that he had no other option but to tell the truth if he valued his father's life. Even if Sicko was bluffing, lying about their Dads hunting together, Sam knew he couldn't take that chance. He wouldn't _gamble_ with his father's life on a maybe.

"I called … Caelan," Sam revealed in a soft, broken, subdued voice, tears of self-incrimination clouding his vision, feeling guilty at having betrayed his _brother_ in order to save his father's life. "He doesn't know where I am," Sam rushed on as he met this monster's eyes, trying to save his friend/brother from the wrath of the sadistic man crouched before him, silently pleading with him to leave Caelan out of it. "It was a bit hard to tell Caelan where I am when I … don't even know where I am. I just …" Sam swallowed hard. "I just called to say goodbye."

Sicko's face remained expressionless as he slowly got to his feet and Sam was expecting to get a mouthful of boot; instead the crazy idiot burst out laughing. "You called Caelan? Caelan Hagen? Son of the late Connor Hagen? That's who you called for help?" He asked incredulously.

Sam blinked in surprise at this … Sicko's demented, mad laughter of glee, almost wishing that he would get kicked in the ribs again than listen to this crazy, almost hysterical laughter. This guy was really starting to creep him out!

"Oh that's fucking hilarious!" Sicko roared, almost doubling over in laughter. "You think Caelan Hagen would come here to rescue _you_?"

"Damn straight he would!" Sam declared strongly, becoming agitated at Sicko's lack of respect for Caelan Hagen, who had become more like a brother in the eighteen years that Sam had known him.

"Hmm. Interesting," Thankfully psycho's laughter eased as he eyed Sam critically and Sam couldn't help but squirm under his intense gaze. "I wonder … if Caelan discovered who was _really_ responsible for his father's death. Would he come here to save you … or kill you?"

 **SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW**

Caelan looked out of the passenger window of the Impala, turning his back on Dean, feeling little shivers of anger and hurt race through the length of his body at having Dean throw '93 back in his face.

That was the worst damn year of his life.

Confused, angry and hurt at his father's unexpected death during a hunt, Caelan had a sinking suspicion that his father's death was no mere "accident". His father had been one of the best damn Hunters there was – right up there with the great John Winchester – and to hear that his Dad had died during a _werewolf_ hunt … that explanation hadn't seemed entirely true to Caelan. His Dad knew how to take care of a damn werewolf! And now Hunters had told him that Connor had gotten careless and sloppy?

Yeah, the whole thing had seemed rotten to Caelan and he had gotten it into his head that maybe the other Hunters who had worked the case with his Dad had something to do with his Dad's so-called accident.

Against advice from other trusted Hunters that Caelan had grown up with and greatly respected and admired, Caelan had set his path on his suicide crusade of trying to pin his father's death on the other Hunters who had worked the same case as his late father.

Call it intuition or gut instinct, Caelan _knew_ that these Hunters had something to do with his father's death. There was no investigation on Caelan's part to back up the claims that he accused these other Hunters of participating in – the murder and subsequent death of his father, because he knew that these assholes were involved somehow – and before he could comprehend what had happened, Caelan had nearly every other Hunter on _his_ ass because of the outlandish claims he was spouting without any evidence except for the word of an angry and hurt twenty-year old young man who had been trying to find a valid reason for his Dad's death (according to those assholes who had been with his Dad on his last hunt ever).

But Caelan had never been able to prove anything. Of course, he hadn't been able to disprove it either. And now, eleven years after his Dad's supposed accident, Caelan still had the sense that he was missing a vital clue as to how his Dad had died. He still suspected there was foul-play involved in there somewhere. He just needed to find the proof first before throwing around accusations like premeditated murder. Caelan had learned his lesson. He was not going back down that road again.

Caelan was brought out of his bitter musings by the sound of Dean's voice, fill of pain, fear and guilt.

"Caelan … brother … will you _please_ help me find Sammy?" Dean finished his sincere plea and Caelan could hear the remorse within his friend's voice.

Caelan let out a low sigh, shoving all of those bitter, resented feelings to the back of his mind. He knew Dean hadn't meant to sound as callous and cold as he did. Caelan knew that as soon as Dean had uttered those hurtful words and comments, he had instantly regretted it. Dean was upset, scared, angry and worried. And Caelan knew that when Dean felt like that, backed into a corner, helpless, he would come out fighting, lashing out at the closest person available to him. And unfortunately for Caelan, that person happened to be him right now.

Caelan turned to face Dean, his first instinct was to childishly strike back at Dean with some scathing words of his own, but when he actually _looked_ at Dean, all of those thoughts vanished in an instant. Seeing his brother's raw, emotional pain, laying bare for anyone to see within his green eyes, Dean's expression one of worry and guilt, Caelan immediately pushed his own feelings to the side and tried to concentrate on the bigger picture right now rather than his own hurt feelings. Sammy was missing and they had to find him. That was the only thing that he should concentrate on right now. Sam needed them, and that's all that mattered. Later, Caelan might have something to say about the matter – and maybe exchange a few blows with the eldest Winchester sibling – but for now their mission was to find Sam Winchester and bring him home.

"What kind of question is that?" Caelan scoffed, his tone carefully masked to teasing indignation. "Of _course_ you're going to need my help Dean. There's no way you could pull off a rescue without me, dude. You're just _way_ too impulsive and brash to get the job done right by yourself."

Dean shot Caelan a relieved glance, his green eyes, prickling with tears. Because in that moment, Dean knew that Caelan had forgiven him for his stinging comments and for bringing up the incident of '93, although Dean would make sure to apologize properly to Caelan about that once they found Sammy and killed the son of a bitch who had abducted him in the first place.

"Thanks man," Dean whispered gratefully. "I really appreciate it, and … " Dean glanced over at his friend's curious, warning gaze before he grinned in typical Dean Winchester fashion and shrugged nonchalantly. "When we have Sammy back safe and sound, what do you say you and me find out what _really_ happened to your old man?"

Caelan blinked in surprise at his friend's suggestion, feeling an instant of gratefulness toward Dean. Because in his own way, Dean was saying that he believed Caelan and he would back Caelan up no matter what. Caelan nodded and grinned back at Dean. "Now _that_ sounds like an excellent plan brother," Caelan couldn't help but agree whole heartedly.

"So … are we good?" Dean asked, relaxing even more at his friend's easy smile and quick reply.

"Yeah man, we're good," Caelan said as Dean shifted the Impala into gear and sped off toward Palo Alto, toward Stanford and toward Sam.

 **CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH**

Sam's breath caught in his throat at the implications of this psychotic's words. "Wh-what do you mean? I – I'm not responsible for Caelan's Dad's death!"

"Aren't you?" Sicko challenged, a small smirk of smug satisfaction surfacing. "Because I happen to know for a fact that you are responsible for Connor's death."

"No!" Sam denied vehemently. "No, I'm not! That's impossible, I was just a kid … you're fucking lying!"

Sam's abductor paused and cocked his head to the right as he considered Sam's words. "Sorry little Demon Spawn, but I'm not lying." He said, his calm voice lowering a notch in mock sympathy, his pale blue eyes sparkling with delight at _his_ Demon Spawn's emotional pain. "Connor was too damn nosy and inquisitive for his own good. He saw something he shouldn't have." Sicko leaned in and winked at Sam conspiratorially (like they were old friends sharing a good memory or a secret). "While you were being punished … between you and me … if you get my meaning,"

Sam's blood ran cold at the insidious accusations that this psychotic nut was telling him, trying to think back to that time when he was ten-years old, but nothing out of the ordinary occurred to him … except for it being the first of many of Sam's punishments.

"But … nothing happened … except the normal … punishments." Sam whispered, a sigh of relief escaping him at that comforting thought. Because the last thing he wanted was to be responsible for Caelan's Dad's death.

Sicko crouched down to Sam's level, placing not so gentle fingers upon his chin to lift Sam's face up so that he could see the terror within the young man's eyes when realisation suddenly dawned upon him. "Oh you're right, of course." He easily agreed. "Nothing happened on _that_ anniversary of November 2nd, but before that …" Sicko's lips stretched into a wide lurid grin, licking his lips with lustful passion as memories assaulted him. "On your birthday … you and I … we had so _much_ fun."

Sam tensed at Sicko's words, shaking his head to deny what he was hearing, even though a tiny bit of him realised the truth of Sicko's words. "No," Sam denied weakly "I would have remembered if …"

"Of course you can't remember it little Demon Spawn," Sicko chuckled, patting Sam's check condescendingly. "It was a … trial of sorts; to see how you would react to the drugs. I may have given you a little too much and …" he shrugged helplessly. "With you all doped up with that adorable kicked puppy look of yours … I couldn't resist. I had to see if I could get away with it. And I did … until Connor walked in."

For the first time since this had begun, Sam could see another emotion other than the usual calm and collected look within the man's pale blue eyes as Sicko stood to his feet and clenched his hands in frustration.

"Connor ruined everything! We were … one … and then … " Sicko closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths to calm himself and return back to his cool, calm and collected façade. "Father was _not_ impressed," he revealed bitterly. "And so … Connor had to go. Simple as that. Because of you." Sicko taunted him, smiling with delight the moment he saw the dawning realisation enter little Sammy's expressive hazel eyes.

Sam felt as if he had been slammed onto the ground, the wind knocked out of him, shocked and appalled when Sicko's words made a horrible kind of sense. Sam's tenth birthday _was_ a bit of a blur. He remembered having a family dinner with his Dad and brother before the older Winchesters had been called away to assist other Hunters in the area who were experiencing a bit of trouble hunting the shape-shifter they were after. Dean normally would have stayed behind to look after Sam but Dean had been needed this time and Caelan … Caelan was on another hunt two states over.

Sam frowned as he struggled to remember the events of that night. He knew Dean and his Dad wouldn't have left him by himself at ten-years old … but that's exactly what they had done … No, that wasn't right. They _had_ left Sam alone but with the promise that Connor Hagen would be in to check on him in a couple of hours and that he should go to sleep. Sam had obeyed, feeling tired anyway … and that was the last thing that Sam could remember until Dean was shaking him awake the next morning, sprouting news that Caelan's Dad was missing.

"No," Sam gasped, his eyes blurring with unshed tears of horror and disbelief. "No, that's impossible … it's not my fault," Sam recalled some unexplained bruising and some very tender spots – especially when he sat down – and he remembered becoming a tad worried about the dry specks of blood in his underwear – but he had brushed them to the side dismissively, worried more about Connor's disappearance than his own injuries, a horrible feeling of dread filling him that something awful had happened to Connor Hagen.

Oh God, it _was his_ fault!

Connor had died because he was doing his Dad a solid by coming to check on his young son. Connor had seen something he shouldn't have; been at the wrong place at the wrong time because of … him.

Sam's eyes narrowed as he glared up at his captor, rage filling his entire being at the thought of Caelan's father dying for such a _stupid_ reason … because of _him_ … because of _them_!

"You son of a bitch!" Sam snarled, forgetting for the moment that he was shackled and bound as he lunged at Sicko, white hot fury burning within him, feeling no pain from his shoulder or wrist, adrenaline and fury making him determined to strike out at this sick fucker now!

Sicko laughed as he easily dodged the young man's attack. "Aw, c'mon little Sammy, don't be like that. My father had to protect me you know. The last thing either of us needed was the wrath of the Winchesters. Connor Hagen had to go. If he had managed to tell John Winchester what he had seen … well, safe to say that I wouldn't be alive today to see the fear in those gorgeous eyes of yours! And our yearly _punishments_ would have been greatly compromised. Connor was a threat. He had to go."

Sicko paused, smirking with pleasure as Sam struggled against the handcuffs, eager to get at him, fill of beautiful rage, anguish and fury. "Of course," Sicko couldn't help but continue, having too much fun taunting the young _thing_ to stop now. "Daddy Winchester didn't pose much of a threat to us … considering that he was off on hunts; too busy worrying about avenging his dead wife than the safety and well-being of his two sons. And Caelan … well, let's just say that Caelan was off on his own mission of avenging _his_ father's death and had little time for his favourite Winchester siblings." Sicko leaned over and squashed Sam's checks together in a mock act of affection.

Sam jerked his head out of Sicko's hands, the action sending shock-waves reverberating through his – yep, definitely dislocated – shoulder and all the way down his left arm. Sam only barely managed to keep from crying out in agony, lowering his head as he fought the darkness that wanted to invade his mind once more, determined not to show _any_ sort of weakness to the … fucktard who had helped to murder one of the best men and Hunter's that Sam had had the privilege of encountering in his life.

Sam had let these bastards push him around too much in the past … not anymore. Sam was determined to show this … _Hunter_ why both the evil sons of bitches and other Hunters feared the name Winchester.

"No, at the end of the day, the only Winchester that me and my old man had to worry about was the over protective, ever vigilant, perfect little saint who could do no fucking wrong; Dean bloody Winchester!" Sicko spat out in a sudden display of anger as he got up and began to pace back and forwards in front of Sam furiously. "Even my own father worships the ground _Dean_ walks on." Sicko continued in an almost jealous rage. "If I had my way, I would have put that cocky little bastard down years ago!"

Sam raised his head, eyeing his abductor, kidnapper, torturer, psychotic sicko with narrowed, focused eyes; a calm stillness and anger seething over him as he watched the – stupid idiot who had just threatened his big brother – stop before Sam, _his_ gaze unfocused, stewing in his own frustrated jealousy.

"Hey!" Sam growled, pleased to notice Sicko's eyes widen in alarm as Sam lunged forward and managed to land a solid fist upon his jaw, knocking Sicko onto his ass. "You don't get to talk about my brother like that! Ever!"

Sicko scrambled to his feet, his checks blustering red with embarrassment at having underestimated this _thing_ , advancing toward Sam with a furious expression upon his face.

If looks could have killed, Sam no doubt would have been dead on the spot. For an instant, Sam feared that he had pushed this psychotic lunatic, sicko over the edge and he would be upon Sam in seconds, beating him to death with his bare hands.

At least that would by one way for this nightmare to end; Sam thought as he closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable to happen.

 **TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Introducing new character, Caelan Hagan. Hope you enjoy.

 **Special Note:** Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER SIX**

Dean's adrenaline rush since finding out Sam was missing and in trouble just barely an hour ago had worn off completely but was now replaced with his big brother protective instincts; to find Sammy and take down the son of a bitch who had hurt him. Protecting Sammy and looking out for him was all Dean had ever known, and regardless of the animosity that lay between them, Dean would _always_ be there to protect and watch out for his pain the ass little brother.

"I'm sorry Dean," Caelan said quietly beside him, bringing Dean out of his own thoughts as Caelan lowered a guilty gaze to his hands.

Dean raised a quizzical eyebrow at his friend. "Sorry? For what man?" Dean asked, genuinely surprised and confused by Caelan's statement. If anyone should be sorry, it was him … especially after all of the things he had said to Caelan in the heat of the moment.

"I should have _insisted_ that Sam maintain a check-in routine with me. I should have called him, at least once a week, to make sure he was okay, happy, safe." Caelan's eyes met Dean's, a smile wobbling upon his lips before it was gone. "Your job may be to protect and look out for Sammy, but … _my_ job is to protect and look out for the _both_ of you."

Caelan sighed heavily, running an anxious hand through his hair. "I just assumed that once Sam left us for a normal life that he'd be safe, there'd be no need for anything to go after him because he was out of the life. But … I didn't take into account how … _crazy_ people can be. I only thought of the supernatural as being a threat … not actual people …"

Dean could sympathize with the older man's words. He too had grown complacent since Sam had moved onto his life of normal two years ago. "Hey dude, this isn't your fault, okay?" Dean clapped a hand upon the older Hunter's shoulder and squeezed in a comforting, reassuring manner before letting go. "If anyone's at fault, it's me. I shouldn't have let Sam manage to push us away like that. But I was …" hurt, angry, disappointed, resentful, jealous? Yes, all of those, Dean thought ruefully. He had felt all of those feelings when his baby brother had just up and walked out on his family.

He had _allowed_ Sam to push them away because Dean had been too damn stubborn to swallow his pride and _beg_ Sam to contact them. Hell, he could have _driven_ to Stanford to see Sam and confront him face to face. But he had been too stubborn, too proud; too much of a coward to really find out what was going on with his younger brother. And now … now it looked like Sammy was paying the price for his stupid, stubborn Winchester pride! Now it looked as if his baby brother had been bullied and manipulated into leaving the safety of his family behind, vulnerable and alone, while his father and brother _left_ him alone to deal with this shit all by himself!

Dean could have kicked himself for not realising sooner that something had been off about the whole Stanford thing. It had seemingly come out of the blue (after Sam's eighteenth birthday) surprising both Dean and their father at the suddenness of it all. Dean should have _known_ that something wasn't right then but …

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, abruptly cutting off his thoughts. He'd be no use to Sam if he was drowning in remorse and regret. He had to concentrate on the here and now. "So, any luck with the location of Sam's phone so that we've got some fucking idea of where to go when we get to Palo Alto?" Dean asked gruffly, his mind firmly focused on the mission at hand. Later, when it was all over, he might find the time to wallow in his guilt, but for now … his thoughts and mind hardened into his Hunter's personality, the priority of the mission clear within his mind.

Caelan's slumped posture seemed to straighten up at Dean's question as he too suddenly only just realised the true purpose of their mission. Caelan took out his phone and brought up the tracking program that he had installed on it. He may have left Sam alone at Stanford, not fully aware of the danger the youngest Winchester was in, but that didn't mean he had left the kid totally vulnerable, without a way for Caelan, Dean or John to be able to track the kid down if they had to.

Before Sam had left, Caelan had installed a tracking device within Sam's phone and thankfully for him, Sam hadn't changed his phone since he had left, so Caelan had always been able to keep track of Sam's whereabouts if he had to.

Caelan brought up the information he was after and couldn't help the long sigh of disappointment that escaped him when Sam's phone didn't appear on his device at all. "Sorry Dean, looks like Sam's phone may have been damaged somehow … I'm not getting a signal … I don't know where to even begin to look. If Sam was here … he'd probably be able to recover that information in a flash, but I'm nowhere near the computer geek that he is."

Dean nodded tightly, refusing to give into despair just yet. There may not be hope, but Dean was damn certain that he would be bringing his brother back with him, no matter what! "True … but since we haven't got our trustee geek boy by our side, what about the GPS on his phone?" Dean said, trying to keep his tone light, but professional at the same time.

"Yeah … that's a no go as well." Caelan sighed, frustration clearly evident within his voice. "Dean, you know I hate to even suggest this …" Caelan said after a while. "But if we _are_ dealing with Hunters … if they don't want us to find Sam …"

Dean's hands upon the steering wheel tightened at Caelan's words, his jaw clenching and unclenching in both anger and fear. "Yeah, I know," Dean replied softly, the same dark thoughts running through his own mind. If Hunters had Sam and they didn't want him to be found … There was no way that Dean and Caelan would be able to track Sam down. Dean just had to hope that they had been careless in their abduction of his brother. If they had wanted Sam dead, they would have killed him long before now. Dean prayed that Sam was more useful to these Hunters alive rather than dead.

"Let's not worry about that right now," Dean said, trying to stay calm and level headed. "Okay, let's stick to the basics. What do we know?"

"Not much," Caelan reluctantly admitted. "Sam didn't even know where he was except in an abandoned warehouse. But … there are dozens of likely areas of where that might be."

"Okay. Well, let's start there. Why don't you pull up a map of the area and check it out? I don't care how many abandoned warehouses there are Caelan; I will search every damn one of them until I get my brother back!"

Caelan nodded, agreeing with Dean's sentiment whole heartedly. No matter what, they _would_ find Sam, even if the odds were against them right now. Caelan had no doubt that the two of them would succeed in their new mission.

New mission? Shit. They were supposed to be meeting John for a new hunt in the next – Caelan checked his watch – six hours at the latest. They didn't have enough time to drive to Palo Alto and back to where John was waiting for them in six hours, let alone look for Sam. "Dean,"

"You find something?" Dean frowned when he realised Caelan hadn't even pulled out the map yet. "What's up dude?"

Caelan let out a long sigh, already knowing what Dean's response to his suggestion would be. Ever since Sam had left for Stanford, Dean and John's relationship had become more strained, Dean questioning John's orders now if he didn't agree with his Dad, stubbornly trying to prove to John that he was an adult now and could investigate and organise his own hunts and choosing his own Hunting partners. Which Daddy Winchester strongly disagreed with, saying that Dean had no instincts when it came to other Hunters. Dean would trust other Hunters more than he would his own instincts, which could wind Dean in deep trouble if the Hunter was careless or useless. That was John's fault; always insisting that Dean follow his orders without question. So, when it came to other, more experienced Hunters, Dean couldn't help but trust what they said and would always follow their lead.

"What dude?" Dean asked, becoming slightly concerned now at his friend's continued silence.

"Maybe … we should call John," Caelan said and braced himself for the incoming string of curses and verbal assault to come since Caelan had mentioned Daddy Winchester.

Dean merely blinked at Caelan in surprise before he shook his head in irritation. "Not yet," he told Caelan firmly. "Dad is finishing off his hunt. When we know more … if we can't locate Sam ourselves, then I'll call Dad, okay? Until then … Dad doesn't need to worry about this while he's on a hunt. He has to keep his head in the game. Don't worry Cal … I will let Dad know that it was my decision to wait to get him involved. You won't get in any trouble," Dean smirked.

"Yeah right! As if John Winchester would ever let me get off that easy!" He murmured sarcastically to himself as he pulled the map from out of the glove compartment to look up possible areas on where these bastards had taken the youngest Winchester.

 **DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW**

Sam held his breath, eyes closed and waited for the furious beating that he knew was to come from his sick sadistic kidnapper, but the attack never came. Sam opened his eyes, letting out his breath in a rush, seeing an evil glint come into Sicko's eyes before he turned away from Sam and quickly bent to pick up Sam's discarded phone.

"What are you doing?" Sam demanded, blinking in confusion as Sicko stood before Sam once more and pulled Sam to his feet by his hair, causing Sam to cry out in surprise as Sicko cruelly pulled Sam's head back, and exposing his vulnerable neck.

"I'm going to do you a favour little Demon Spawn," Sicko whispered in Sam's ear, seeing shudders of revolution ripple down the length of Sam's body. "I'm going to call your big brother. And then, while your _precious_ Dean Winchester is on the phone, I'm going to _break_ you!" Sicko said in a low threatening voice, bitting upon Sam's ear hard enough to draw blood, making his intentions clear to Sam.

Sam gasped tears of pain in his eyes as he bit upon his bottom lip to keep his cries from escaping. This _pervert_ obviously got off on the agonized screams that Sam hadn't been able but to release before now. Now Sam was determined to not give this nutter anymore ammunition or … pleasure that Sam's tortured wails had provided for him. Nope. Sicko was going to have to get his sick thrills from someone else!

"I'm going to tell your brother exactly where we are," Sicko continued taunting Sam, knowing that nothing would terrify Sam more than to threaten his brother. "And then, when _Dean_ gets here … I'm going to have the greatest pleasure in _breaking_ him too!"

Sam's breath caught in his throat as sudden understanding hit him at Sicko's words, his eyes widening in alarm before a cold wrath filled him. Sam's eyes narrowed, his body shaking with hatred now instead of revolution as he glared over at Sicko's twisted smile of satisfaction, thinking that Sam was quaking with terror, before Sam's own lips turned up into a dangerous half-smile, his body tensing before Sam ripped his hair free from Sicko's hold (it didn't matter that whole chucks of Sam's hair came out in Sicko's hands) as Sam pulled back his head, and with pin-point accuracy, head-butted the sick fuck, pleased when Sicko staggered back from Sam, blood leaking from his – hopefully broken – nose, shocked by Sam's sudden vicious attack upon him.

"You can be pissed at me all you want, play your little mind games, torture me until I fall unconscious or die … that's fine," Sam took a step closer to Sicko, reached out with his right hand and pulled Sicko up by his shirt, Sicko's feet dangling in the air. "But the one thing you don't ever do … the one thing I will _never_ tolerate from you or anyone … you don't _ever_ threaten my big brother!" Sam declared, his voice low, his hazel eyes flashing with outrage before he threw Sicko half-way across the floor. "Do I make myself clear you sick fucktard?!"

Sicko lay upon the ground, stunned into silence for only a few moments before he jumped to his feet, marching over to Sam, while pulling something out from behind his back, his lips pursed into lines of irritation and humiliation before he thrust the object into Sam's left side – Taser, Sam's mind supplied – before Sam felt the intense burn discharge before he found himself on the ground, his body writhing and twitching in both shock and pain, completely defenceless, unable to control his body at all as spasms shot through him.

Sicko smiled in a deranged, gleeful manner before he spit into Sam's face. "Who the fuck do you think you are to spill my blood?!" Sicko roared, his icy pale blue eyes no longer calm, collected or calculating; now they showed madness and wrathful fury. "You are nothing but Demon Spawn scum! And I will show you … teach you what happens to useless, pathetic pieces of crap that are beneath me who think that they can threaten me. You will learn little Demon Spawn to never … ever … make … a … Levi … angry!"

With every word that Sicko spoke, he kicked Sam's defenceless body with his steel-toed boots; ribs, chest, back, shoulders, legs … over and over until Sam could feel wounds that had previously stopped bleeding begin to bleed again as well as creating new bruises to form on the existing bruises – fuck, there went his knee! Hopefully just dislocated and not broken – until Sicko placed a well-aimed kick at Sam's head and Sam knew no more as the darkness raced to gather him into its arms.

"Night, night little Demon Spawn," Sicko said, regaining his composure now that little Sammy Winchester was bleeding and unconscious on the ground. "When you wake up _my_ little Sammy, Demon Spawn, you are going to wish that I had killed you out right."

Sicko stood to his feet, a sinister grin settling over his lips. "Boys! Come and help me with this … piece of crap … and then we can begin to have some fun." Sicko's smile grew as two other men – long-time Hunters and friends who belonged to the same cause and organisation he did – came out into the open and stood beside Sicko, grinning with cruel sadistic pleasure as they anticipated the fun they would all be having very soon.

 **SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW**

John Winchester couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him as he picked up his bag and prepared to put it in his truck, anxious to meet up with Dean and Caelan and put this hunt and the Hunter who had called him in to assist, behind him.

The whole hunt had left John with a bitter taste in his mouth and a bad, gnawing pang in his gut at how wrong this all seemed. Not only was he forced to partner up with Hunters that he didn't even like – hell, despise would be a better word to describe how he felt about these guys – but to be called in on this particular hunt when there were already three other Hunters on the job seemed a bit of an overkill to be hunting restless spirits.

Granted, there had been at least three ghosts that they had to deal with, but it still seemed a little … odd. It wasn't as if these spirits were particularly violent or vengeful and John knew that he would have had no problem with taking them out with just himself and another Hunter as back-up.

If John didn't know any better, he'd swear that this hunt was organised just to get him out of the way … or to cover up a nasty "accident" by a hunt gone wrong. It wouldn't be the first time John had been set up and he knew that it wouldn't be the last time either.

But as much as he _despised_ these other Hunters, John honestly couldn't see any of them pulling any stunts like that. At least two of them had come from a long line of Hunters, valuing the nonverbal agreement and code that Hunters had between them in honouring debts that they owed to others. They respected and admired other Hunters work without over stepping the boundary of another Hunter or their hunt, unless specifically asked to help. And they knew that if they went gunning for another Hunter without probably cause or reason that they would only be provoking the wrath of other Hunters.

Stewart and Adams were two of these rare breed of Hunters who had lived the life and valued the code of the verbal, common sense rules that most Hunters born into the profession honoured and lived by.

But for people like John and Marc Ley-Lamp who had been thrust into this world because of a big supernatural fugly who had destroyed their lives, sometimes those time honoured values didn't come into play. John was a man of his word and he _always_ repaid his debts. He didn't have trouble converting to the unspoken rules of the Hunters community (although sometimes he didn't play well with others). But Marc, on the other hand … if John didn't know him and hadn't worked with the guy previously, John wouldn't trust him as far as he could throw him.

Marc was a strange man, with often weird and odd tendencies. Marc was a damned good Hunter and had military training just like John had before discovering the Hunter's life, but John always got a little unsettled if they had to interrogate a supernatural nasty – nine times out of ten it was a Demon – in gathering more information crucial to the hunt because Marc seemed to enjoy interrogating the captive a little _too_ much.

Another thing that had irked him about this man was that Marc had the gift of the gab. No matter what situation they found themselves in, Marc had always been able to talk them out of trouble. And while that would generally be seen as a good thing, John always felt that the man was hiding his true self, his intentions not always for the common good but to deceive others about his true agenda.

But John did know Marc, had worked with the man on an almost constant basis after Connor – his previous partner – had died on a hunt helping out fellow Hunters Adams, Stewart and Williamson (another old school Hunter). Plus John had appreciated the extra help with Sammy during the anniversary of Mary's death, which had always been a particularly hard time of the year for John.

Normally, when that time of the year rolled around, John would take off for at least two weeks by himself – not wanting to inadvertently put either of his boys in danger because of his grief – venting as only John Winchester could, but trying to track down and find all of the information that he could on the son of a bitch Demon that had killed his beloved wife, killing everything evil that got in his way.

Not having to worry about Sammy during that time was a heavy burden lifted from him. And by that time, Dean either accompanied John with his hunt/investigation or he helped Caelan out on his quest to find out what had happened on the hunt that had gotten his father killed.

Connor had been John's best friend ever since they had met back in '83, Connor's thirteen-year old son Caelan looking after seven-year old Dean and three-year old Sammy while the two men hunted together, becoming fast and firm friends. Connor had kept John anchored when the anniversary of Mary's death approached them and John hadn't felt the need to venture off by himself because he always had Connor to vent his pent up feelings and emotions too. But when Connor died, John had spiralled down a dark and lonely path. And if it hadn't of been for Marc, who helped to pull John out of his suicidal dark path of grief, John knew that he would be dead by now; or worse … a drunken, abusive father to his two boys.

John owed Marc his life and his children. And so, whatever bad feelings or gut instincts he got from this guy, John had pushed them aside in favour of the old saying; actions speak louder than words. John didn't trust many people – especially Hunters, and he trusted them even less to look after his kids – but John had learned to trust and appreciate Marc because even though he would do some questionable things, the man had done right by him and his boys. And to John that meant everything in the world to him.

John was about to open the door and exit the motel room when he saw Marc pacing out front of the room, looking agitated. Instinctively John wanted to go and ask his friend if everything was okay, but something in the man's posture and demeanour made him hesitate. Instead, John hid behind the partially opened door and strained to hear the phone conversation that his friend was participating in.

"What do you mean you lost control?" Marc demanded, pacing furiously now. "No. I don't care! We had an agreement, and we honour our agreements boy!" Marc let out a long frustrated sigh as he ran a hand through his white/blonde hair. "Of course not! Did you _ever_ stop to think that I had a plan all along? And now you have just ruined it!"

Marc paused to listen. "As if I would _let_ that … _monster_ off the hook after _he_ caused the death of my beloved Mary."

John couldn't help but frown at his friend's words. Since when had Marc known anyone by the name of Mary? He wasn't … he couldn't be talking about _his_ Mary, could he?

"You did what?!" Marc hissed in fury. "God damn it boy! Have you got a fucking _death_ wish? The last thing we need is to have John or Dean on our asses …"

John's breath caught in his throat at those words, trying to make sense of the one sided phone conversation Marc was having. Was he talking about _his_ Dean? Him? What the hell was going on here?

"I have spent too many years planning and put too much effort into this. Do you know how long it took me to track him down? How many years it took me to gain the _trust_ of the great John Winchester so that I could finally get my hands on the _Demon Spawn_ ; his fucking offspring?"

John felt a cold dread of anger filling his heart. And it took every ounce of will power John possessed not to rip open this door and pound upon Marc's face until he got the answers he wanted.

"You called …" Marc let out an exasperated sigh. "Well then, you're time there is limited isn't it? You need to stop what you're doing and get out right now … you really think _you_ can handle Dean Winchester?" Marc sneered before he sighed once more, all of the anger seeming to leave him. "Yes, I understand, but I'm initiating Protocol Four … Damn it _boy_! Just do what I tell you for once … you're the one who ruined this for us … just do what I say and let me handle the Winchesters."

John ducked his head behind the door as Marc ended his call and looked toward the motel room, John's heart pounding with fear and betrayal. None of what Marc said had made any sense … but at the same time, it all seemed to make perfect sense.

John quickly marched into the bathroom when he heard his phone ringing. John picked up his phone, his alarm increasing when he saw Dean's name displayed upon his screen.

Oh God no … please let Dean be all right …

"Dean," John answered his voice tight with apprehension. "What's going –"

"Dad … its Sammy … he's missing and in trouble … I need your help."

 **TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes. This is a dark chapter with sexual abuse. No graphic details.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Introducing new character, Caelan Hagan. Hope you enjoy.

 **Special Note:** Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER SEVEN**

In what should have been a five hour drive to their destination, Dean had managed to do it in three, pushing his baby to her limits, knowing that time was of the essence, especially with Sam missing and in trouble.

Every big brother instinct in Dean screamed at him to begin the search for his little brother immediately – who the hell knew what those bastards had done to him already! – but the Hunter in Dean knew that he wouldn't get very far if he didn't take the time to freshen up, eat something and go over the game-plan with Caelan before they even attempted the search for Sam. It wouldn't do anyone any good if they ran around aimlessly in a panic, searching for the missing Winchester. No, they needed to do this right, like professional Hunters and not anxious, panicked big brothers.

They checked into a motel in close proximity to Stanford, knowing that their first action of business was to talk to Sam's friends and see if they noticed anyone strange hanging around, whether Sam's attitude had changed within the last twenty-four hours or if any of them had witnessed Sam's kidnapper, without even being aware of it.

Caelan took to the shower first before he left to get them both some food, before they attacked the rest of the game-plan in more detail.

Both Hunters were subdued, lost in their own thoughts as they mindlessly ate the food in front of them, Dean struggling to get down even one bite of his double bacon cheese burger, due to how worried and stressed he was about his brother's predicament.

"C'mon man," Caelan sighed, watching his friend critically as Dean picked at his food, not even attempting to eat it. Dean would normally have scoffed the lot down by now – he loved food! Especially pie! – So that attested to how worried he was about Sam's current situation. "You have to eat something, dude. You're not going to be any good to Sam if you crash and burn." Caelan gently rebuked his friend, hoping that some common sense would snap Dean out of his funk.

Tired, slightly vacant green eyes met Caelan, shrugging indifferently, the loss and desperation within Dean's normally shielded eyes caused a pang of sympathy within Caelan. "Can't. If I eat I'm gonna hurl." Dean explained apathetically.

Caelan's expression softened at Dean's obvious abject misery. "I know it's hard to concentrate right now man, but if we want to find Sammy, we have to be firing on all cylinders, right?" Caelan gently prodded the young man seated opposite him.

"I just … I shouldn't have left him alone Caelan. What sort of big brother am I that I could let this shit happen to my baby brother? How could I have not noticed?"

Caelan squeezed Dean's shoulder in both comfort and sympathy. He too felt guilty as hell – especially if what they theorized happening to Sam had in fact happened to the youngest Winchester – but wallowing in self-pity and self-indulgence was a luxury they didn't have right now. They had to find Sammy. Everything else they could deal with later … once Sam Winchester was back with them where he belonged.

" _None_ of us should have left him alone Dean," Caelan stressed, trying to keep his tone calm and even, instead it came out heaped with bitterness so low that he was practically growling. "We all fucked up Dean, not just you, okay? Now, eat your damn pie so that we can go and save your brother!"

Dean blinked at Caelan, surprised and shocked at his friend's tone before he burst out laughing. "If you're trying to sound all intimidating while giving orders like Dad … sorry Cal, you failed big time! You just sounded like a pouting teenager, dude!"

Caelan quirked his eyebrow, trying to give Dean the "adult" I'm-not-impressed look, but he ended up laughing along with Dean, glad to see that Dean had pulled himself out of his slightly depressive funk.

Dean wiped tears of laughter away from his eyes before he obediently began to eat his pie, grateful for having Caelan beside him right now. The two of them had their work cut out for them if they had any hope of rescuing Sammy from potential Hunters.

Half an hour later both Dean and Caelan were in Sam's dorm room, trying to find any sort of clue about who might have taken the young man and where, while they talked to Sam's roommate Brady; learning that Sam must have been abducted shortly after one am after they had gone to the local bar.

When asked why the two of them had been out at such a late hour – considering how serious Sam was about his studies. He wouldn't have wanted any distractions to impede his school work, which included lack of sleep and a potential hangover – Brady had shrugged, a wide grin plastered upon his face, giving the two Hunters a sly wink. "It's a tradition in my family that when you turn the ripe old age of twenty-one, you make the most of it! Plus, Jessica was there. I mean, everyone _knows_ that those two have been crushing on each other for _ages_ now and neither of them had done anything about it so we decided to try and … nudge them in the right direction. When Sam didn't come home, I just assumed that he'd spent the night at Jessica's. Sam's all right, isn't he?"

Dean felt like a fucking tool! How the hell could he have forgotten that it was his brother's birthday? Man, he was really screwing up royally with his big brother duties at the moment!

After reassuring the kid that Sam was fine and probably got waylaid somewhere, Brady had left to go to class while Dean began to search the dorm room for anything that could explain where these fuckers had taken his younger brother and Caelan left to investigate the bar where Sam had last been seen.

Sam's room was barely furnished. No geek posters hanging on the walls, no personal mementoes which decorated the room. There was only a bed, a small study desk and a row of books on a single book shelf above his bed. No TV, no radio, just the bare essentials. Dean wasn't even sure he was in the right room until he caught a glimpse of some photos of them when they had been younger.

Dad was in one of them, along with Caelan and Connor – Caelan's Dad – Sam and Dean crouched down in front of them, all of them laughing, looking happy while enjoying some down-time after a hunt; another one of Mum and Dad and the two siblings before the fire and the Demon who had taken everything from them; this last one was of the three Winchesters, young Sammy scowling while Dean affectionately ruffled his brother's hair, a big goofy grin plastered upon his young face, while John looked at his two boys with obvious love and pride, the parental look of exasperation and tolerance upon his features. Dean smiled softly in nostalgia before quickly coming to the conclusion that there was nothing in here that would shed any light on the current situation.

With a heavy, frustrated sigh-growl, Dean flipped open his phone and dialled Caelan's number. "Nothing to be found here man," Dean reported. "How bout you?"

"Unfortunately not," Caelan replied, irritated with his lack of success. "These people … or Hunters … they're good Dean. No traces of anything what-so-ever."

"Well, I guess we should start looking at some of the places you mapped out then." Dean said after a short pause of disappointment. "I'll come to you and then we can separate and begin to search."

"Sounds like a plan," Caelan agreed, hanging up his phone.

With one final glance around his brother's barren room, Dean left the dorm and made his way toward the Impala. Inserting the key into the ignition, Dean was interrupted by the shrill ringing of his phone. With a huff of annoyance, half-expecting it to be his Dad, Dean grabbed at his phone, gasping in complete and utter shock at the name displayed.

Fumbling with panicked, shaky hands, Dean slipped open his phone, pressing the button to access the call. "Sammy," he answered breathlessly, his heart hammering with trepidation and hopefulness.

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Excruciating pain slammed Sam back into consciousness, his mouth open in a silent scream of agony, his body shaking and sweating profusely, breathing heavily because of the extreme amount of pain he was in.

Without warning, Sam tilted his head slightly and vomited all down his chest, some of the sickness spattering up and striking someone's shoes and pants.

"Ugh!" an unfamiliar voice protested loudly, quickly trying to get out of the way by pushing away from Sam, his hand making contact with Sam's dislocated left shoulder, which caused Sam to heave violently once more, almost blacking out once more, whimpering in pain.

"God damned bastard!" The new voice roared with disapproval. "Would you look at the mess this little … fuck head has made?! And all over me as well! God, he's disgusting!"

"Well, what did you expect Peter?" Sicko said in an amused tone. "What did you think would happen when you yanked on his obviously dislocated shoulder like that?"

"I was only trying to get him over to that work-bench over there like you wanted." The unfamiliar, new voice – obviously called Peter – pouted in a sullen voice.

"Yes, of course," Sicko agreed in a soothing tone. "Hank! You want to give me a hand over here since Stewart here is a little squeamish?" Sicko teasingly taunted his … what … friend, companion, fellow torturer?

Sam almost gagged again as unfamiliar hands helped to guide him to where ever the hell they were going. Three of them, Sam thought belatedly, his feet dragging upon the ground, having no energy to stand on his feet, let alone walk or fight his way out of here! Three of them now; Sicko … Peter and … Hank. Wait, hadn't Sicko said another name? Stewart? Did that mean there were four or …

"Are you with us now little Demon Spawn?" Sicko asked softly, his breath tickling against Sam's ear.

Sam tried to jerk his head away from Sicko, but his body wouldn't co-operate with him and all he could manage was a displeased groan, which sounded more pathetic than threatening like he had wanted it to.

Sicko chuckled, pressing his body even tighter against Sam's right side, revealing in the effect of how uncomfortable this _thing_ was. Oh yes, the three of them were going to have so much _fun_ together.

The unfamiliar voice – Peter – snickered from in front of Sam. "I can't believe you actually branded this … _monster_ Sa –"

"Hush!" Sicko immediately silenced Peter harshly. "No names … my Demon Spawn is finally awake." He crooned, trailing gentle fingers down Sam's face and Sam couldn't help but shudder in revolution. "Okay, let's get him secure and then … we can have some fun." Sicko – who was obviously the leader of these two imbeciles, dead men walking is what they would be once Dean got his hands on them! – announced gleefully. "Pansy, Mouse, you guys stay in front and get ready to secure his hands on my say so." Sicko instructed and his two lackeys moved to obey his command.

Code names, Sam thought sluggishly. Now they were using code names! Great, just who the hell were these guys?

Shivering slightly (and Sam wasn't sure if it was from shock settling in or because of the cool morning air bitting his bare skin) Sam struggled to lift his suddenly too heavy eyelids open as he sensed the other two cronies taking up positions in front of him.

"Right, true to my word little Demon Spawn, let's call big brother and invite him to this party, shall we?"

Sam's eyes suddenly popped open when he heard the sound of a phone being flipped open. "Wait!" Sam gasped, the adrenaline flooding his system because he feared for his brother's well-being and safety, suddenly snapped Sam out of his stupor, making him fully aware of the situation and what Sicko had promised to do to Dean.

"No! Leave … my brother out of this … please. I'll do whatever you want … no more fighting, I swear. Just please … please don't hurt my brother!" Sam begged, desperate now as he realised that Dean may lose his life today because of him.

First his Dad, then Caelan and now Dean … Sam swallowed hard. He always knew that he would cause his family's death; he just didn't think it would be today!

Sicko chuckled darkly. "Sorry little _Sammy_ , it's too late for begging. Why don't you say hello to your big brother?"

Sam held his breath, hearing the ringing tones through the speaker phone before he heard his big brother's voice for the first time in two years.

"Sammy?"

Sam almost lost it right then, not realising how much he had _missed_ his brother's voice until he'd heard it again. And was that worry Sam could detect within Dean's tone? Did that mean that he didn't hate Sam for leaving?

Sam fought back a sob, to break down in relief, knowing that voice meant that he was safe, loved and protected. He had to warn Dean that this was a trap – stupid idiots had forgotten to gag him! – and that Sicko meant, not only to destroy Dean as a man but to take away his life. If Sam could warn him and save his brother, then that's what he'd do. He decided that he _couldn't_ lose his brother today!

"Sam? Is that you? Are you okay? Sammy?"

"Dean!" Sam cried out in desperation. "Don't come … don't come here Dean. It's a tra – Ah fuck!" Sam swore loudly as both of his arms were dragged forward and placed within handcuffs, his left shoulder protesting at the rough treatment, tears of hurt and anger in his eyes, swallowing back the bile that threatened to rise up once more.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled, fear within his tone. "Are you okay? Talk to me buddy; tell me what's going on!"

"Bastards!" Sam hissed the fear for his brother turning swiftly to anger now as he glared up hatefully at the two _clowns_ who had restrained his arms. "I am so going to _kick_ your asses when I get out of here!"

Peter snickered loudly. "Yeah, I'd like to see you try that!" he sneered.

"Hey! Who the hell was _that_?" Dean's voice growled. "Hey, asshole, if you let my brother go right now I'll give you a day's head start before I track you down and gut you like a pig!"

Silence filled the room at Dean's promised threat and Sam couldn't help but grin in triumph and pride. Yep, that was typical of Dean to make a room full of torturer sick fucks to go quiet because of his promised guarantee.

"Dean! It's a trap! Don't come! Please don't come, they'll kill you!" Sam yelled out in warning before his head was ruthlessly slammed against the work-bench, a hand placed firmly upon the back of his head, forcing him to remain in that position.

"Easy little Demon Spawn," Sicko murmured, pressing down harder until Sam's lips were squished against the work-bench. "That's not part of the plan. This is happening because of _your_ disobedience. It's your fault that I've had to involve big brother and now he'll share the same fate as you."

"Sam! Sammy … you still there? What's going on? Sammy!"

"Dean Winchester," Sicko spoke up. "What you are about to _hear_ is little Sammy Winchester being _broken_!"

"If you _touch_ my brother, I'll fucking end you! Do you hear me? I'll fucking _kill_ you!" Dean roared in protective rage.

"Well then, I'd like to see you try, considering that you don't have a clue as to where we are and it would no doubt take you hours to get here, even if you did know. By that time, we'll be long gone." Sicko smirked as Sam heard the distinct sound of a belt-buckle and zipper being undone, Sicko moving into position behind him.

Sam's eyes grew round at the realisation of what was about to happen and he couldn't help the pitiful whimper that escaped him.

"Sammy?" Dean's frantic voice called. "Buddy, tell me where you are and I'll come get you, okay? Just tell me where you are …"

"Sorry Deano," Sicko chuckled dryly. "That's not part of the game-plan yet." Sicko ruthlessly kicked Sam's legs apart and moved in between them.

"Dean … oh God," Sam whispered in terror, tears beginning to build within his eyes, his brother's reassuring words becoming distant and faraway as Sam steeled his resolve, determined that he wouldn't scream.

"It's okay Dean," Sam tried to assure his brother, even though his voice trembled violently. "I'm okay Dean, I promise," He wouldn't cry or scream, no matter what Sicko did to him. Dean was on the line, listening; Sam had to show Dean how strong he was. He had to show Dean that he wasn't a weak, pathetic Demon Spawn; he was a damn Winchester!

But all traces of determination and rebellion left him when the worst pain that he had ever experienced exploded within him and he couldn't help the sounds of agony that ripped from him over and over again.

"It's okay Sammy," Sam could hear his older brother's strong, confident, slightly breaking voice over the screams echoing off of the walls. "I'm here buddy. I'm right there with you. It's okay Sammy, we're coming to get you little brother, I promise …"

Sam prayed for either death or unconsciousness to come and embrace him, his throat becoming hoarse because of his screaming as his screams finally died down to broken sobs, the pain almost too much to handle, the humiliation and shame causing him to stop struggling, tears trailing down his face, trying to block out Sicko's excited, sexual pleasure from behind him.

"I'm sorry," Sam sobbed, feeling his self-confidence and will shatter into a million pieces. "Oh God Dean, I'm sorry,"

How could Dean or Dad ever face him again after something like this? It had been bad enough when he'd turned eighteen … bad enough that it had made him give in and run away from his family in order to keep them safe and to keep them from learning the truth. But now … now Sam couldn't hide it. He couldn't run from it because Dean … Dean had heard everything! If Dean didn't hate Sam before, Sam was sure as hell certain that he would now!

"Happy birthday little Demon Spawn," Sicko gasped in between his moans of sexual excitement. "Now you belong to me in every possible way and we will be always bound and connected to each other for ever."

 **TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Introducing new character, Caelan Hagan. Hope you enjoy.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Mimmi85** and **Kas3y** for your kind reviews. I was starting to get disheartened, thinking that no one was interested in this story, but you've provided me with the encouragement to keep continuing. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER EIGHT**

If Dean thought that hearing his little brothers screams of agony was bad, causing a red hot wave of intense, seething hatred to roll through him, then hearing his baby brother's broken, distraught sobs and his despondent, despairing, demoralizing apology almost caused Dean to break down and sob like a baby, something within him fracturing because his brother should _never_ sound like this. Sam should never sound so … defeated; and then to turn around and blame _himself_ for whatever this SOB had done to him and was still doing to him right now – and Dean _knew_ it wasn't good by the sound of his brother's tortured screams, having a horrible suspicion on what it was that could cause his normally strong and independent brother to fall down to the pits of instant despair, humiliation and shame – caused Dean's fury and rage to spike to an all-time new level for him.

Swallowing hard, Dean pushed those emotions aside for now, knowing that Sam needed him. "Sammy, it's okay," Dean called in between his brother's heart wrenching, broken sobs, hoping like hell that Sam could still hear him. "It's not your fault little brother," Dean told his sibling, his voice cracking slightly at the sincerity of his words. "You have _nothing_ to apologise for … do you hear me? Hang in there Sam, just be strong for a little while longer and I'll come get you … okay Sammy? I'll find you … I promise."

After a while – which seemed like an eternity to Dean – there was a God awful silence; his brother's painful sobs and whimpers seemingly vanished in an instant and Dean wasn't sure if he should be worried or relieved.

Fearing that the call had been disconnected from Sam's end, Dean glanced quickly at his phone and was both reassured and dismayed to see the seconds tick by on his phone's display, indicating that the call was still valid. But what the hell did that mean for Sam? Why was he so silent? Had he passed out or had … they done something else to him?

Dean's heart galloped ahead at full speed at that thought, praying for some kind of sound to let him know that his brother was still alive.

It was vague and distant, but Dean could hear that same sick fuck who had taunted him about how he was going to "break" Sam, speak words that Dean couldn't decipher to someone – or more than one – else, who was obviously present with both Sam and this – gonna be dead soon – asshole!

"Dean Winchester," the Dead Fucker said smugly, slightly out of breath. "So, it's finally just you and me now. My boys are … keeping my Demon Spawn, little Sammy Winchester, _occupied_ while we talk."

Dean gritted his teeth together so tightly that he could feel a physical ache within his jaw; his fingers squeezed his phone in a near-death grip, pressed firmly against his ear, a low, guttural sound working its way up through his body.

"Hey soon to be Dead Fucker, you don't get to call my brother that!" Dean's voice was so low that it almost sounded feral and animal-like. "Why don't you tell me where you are … I'd love to pay you a visit."

Dead Fucker laughed. "Oh Deano, did I ever tell you how _adorable_ you are when using your big boy threatening voice? Unfortunately for you … I'm neither intimidated nor impressed by your act of male dominance."

"You think this is an act?" Dean snarled. "Tell me where you are and then you'll see how much of an "act" it is!"

"Hmm, it seems that hearing me _break_ your brother has upset you a great deal. I apologize for that. You weren't supposed to be involved in this but little Sammy, _my Demon Spawn_ , needed to be taught a _lesson_. And I must admit that maybe I lost my temper a little bit, but the best is yet to come!" Dead Fucker taunted Dean smugly. "And because I'm such a generous person … I'm going to tell you exactly where we are … and you can come and join this party. What do you say Deano? You wouldn't want to miss out on the grand finale, would you?"

Dean closed his eyes, his body literally shaking with rage. "Just tell me where and when asshole … I'll be there." Dean promised, anger clouding his judgement. He didn't care that he might be walking into a trap or that he might be outnumbered. All he knew was that he had to get to Sam ASAP. Besides, with the way he was feeling, he was confident that he could take down ten of these sons of bitches!

"Yes, I'm sure you will." Dead Fucker chuckled darkly. "To be honest Deano … I've always considered you to be an insufferable ass whose use of violence, unseemly and unnecessary threats to be … archaic, out-dated." Dead Fucker paused, his modulated voice sounding excited, gleeful. "I'm looking forward to knocking you off of your high-horse, taking you down a peg or two, to get rid of your damned cocky, smug attitude!"

Dean couldn't help but grin in triumph when Dead Fucker lost his composure, resentment and anger colouring his tone. Dean had managed to ruffle his feathers, which had been Dean's plan; because if Dead Fucker was angry, then he was bound to be sloppy and mistakes would be made, which would give Dean an advantage … something he could use against this bastard who had _dared_ to _touch his little brother_! "Just tell me where Dead Fucker, I'll be there."

All of a sudden there was a lot of noise bursting through from the other end, as if someone had opened up a door and Dean could hear his brother's weak cries of pain once more, which made Dean more determined ever to hunt these SOBS down and teach them why _nobody_ should ever fuck with the Winchesters!

"Hey Sav –"

"No names!" Dead Fucker growled angrily. What the hell do you want? I'm kind of in the middle of something here!"

"Sorry," the new voice said, sounding anything but sorry. "But it's your phone Slither. I think you're going to want to take it. It's your Dad."

"Fuck! Who the hell _told_ him about this?" Dead Fucker exclaimed, a little bit of uncertainty and doubt entering his highly pissed off tone. "Sorry Deano, I'm going to have to cut this short. Maybe I'll see you next time."

"Hey! Wait –" Dean cried out in alarm. "You didn't tell me where you are! Shit!" Dean cussed angrily when realising that the call had been disconnected. He'd been so close to getting Sam's location and bringing him home. But now …

"Fuck sake!" Dean swore, slamming his fists against the steering wheel, almost tempted to give into his overwhelming anger and hatred for the pieces of scum who had deliberately tortured his baby brother while he had been listening in, bragging about it, but Dean knew that he couldn't give into these emotions yet. He had to find Sammy. And in order to do that, he had to calm the fuck down and think rationally.

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, some of the intense rage he'd been feeling beginning to ease; and now Dean knew what he had to do. It was time to call John Winchester.

 **DW JW DW JW DW JW DW JW DW JW DW JW DW**

John's heart thudded loudly against his chest, an almost paralysing feeling overwhelming him at Dean's words. What? Sammy was _missing_?! Was this somehow connected to the conversation he had overheard Marc having? Had that bastard abducted his son?!

John forced himself to take several deep calming breaths before responding to Dean, but even then, his voice came out gruffer than he intended, fear for his youngest son automatically turning into anger, not willing to let anyone – let alone his own son – know just how scared he was at the moment.

"What do you mean Sammy's missing and in trouble?" John demanded in a hiss. "How the hell can he be missing? He's been living a _normal_ life for two years now. What kind of _trouble_ can Sammy get into while living a civilian's life for fuck sake?" John couldn't help the sarcastic quality that tinged his tone now, the ever present scorn and bitterness that he had felt when Sammy announced he was leaving them to go to _school_ , rising unbidden to the surface once more, cursing his son's stubborn bull-headedness to lead a "normal" life and not follow in the footsteps of his father and older brother, continuing the family mission, their _legacy_. And now look what had happened because of Sammy's stubborn, independent streak … he was in _trouble_ and _missing_! John couldn't help but think that if Sam had stayed with them, his family would have been better equipped to keep an eye out and protect him, and then he wouldn't be in this unfortunate predicament.

"I don't know Dad," Dean sighed loudly and John could hear the underlining worry within his oldest son's voice. "That's what we're trying to figure out now."

John nodded to himself, trying to reign in his conflicting emotions. It didn't matter that Sam had seemingly deserted his family for normality or that he hadn't contacted them in two years. Sam was his _son_. And no matter how much they had fought in the past or the issues that lay between them now, John would _always_ be there for his son, no matter what.

And just like that, John's rising frustrations toward his youngest son vanished, his protective father instincts kicking into high alert. "Okay," John breathed, trying to centre his concentration. "Caelan's with you?"

"Yeah. He's checking out the scene where Sam was last seen. I'm just about to meet up with him."

"Talk to me Dean, what do you know?" John commanded in a tightly controlled voice.

"Not much," Dean admitted regretfully. "Sammy called Cal and said he was in trouble and didn't know where he was." Dean paused; an edge of nervousness entered his tone now. "I should have called you sooner, but I knew you were in the middle of a hunt and I didn't want to make you worry for nothing … at least, not until we knew more."

"It's okay Dean, you did the right thing." John assured his son, grateful that Dean hadn't contacted him earlier because in his ignorance, he might have asked the other Hunters for help, which would have tipped Marc off and his boy might not be alive right now.

At the moment, after hearing Marc's side of the conversation – if it was indeed him who had a hand in his son's missing status – then it was apparent that Sam was still alive. Marc had seemed unbelievably pissed and frustrated, but John couldn't recall Marc giving an order or code to kill anyone.

Unless … John's blood suddenly ran cold as he recalled Marc issuing a Protocol Four. God, he hoped that wasn't an order to kill his boy!

"We think whoever took Sammy … they seemed to know a shit load of personal stuff about us." Dean revealed quietly and there was something within his boy's tone which caused John's attention to focus more upon Dean.

"He called me to deliberately taunt me and I heard …" John heard Dean swallowing hard several times, his voice cracking slightly as he fought to get control over his emotions. "I want these fuckers dead Dad!"

And John was surprised by the venomous hatred that he could hear within his boy's voice. "The guy who called me … he used a voice modulator, so that suggests to me that we _know_ him somehow." Dean continued, his tone nowhere near as dark as before, although John could tell that his son was fighting desperately to keep his anger under control.

"The Dead Fucker kept saying that Sammy was _his Demon Spawn_!" Dean scoffed in an indignant tone. "Can you believe that? Sammy's not his! And he definitely ain't no Demon Spawn!"

"Demon Spawn?" John repeated numbly, distinctly recalling Marc referring to John's off-spring as being a Demon Spawn. Oh Shit! Was he talking about _Sammy_?!

John closed his eyes, swaying slightly on his feet, dread making him feel sick to his stomach as he recalled the numerous times he had handed his young son over to Marc willingly while he pursued tracking the very elusive Demon that had killed his wife, too blinded by grief and his obsession to see the danger he had all but pushed his young, defenceless, easily-manipulated boy into each and every year since Sammy had been ten years old!

John bit back a curse or a sob of remorse – John wasn't sure which – holding the phone tightly within his shaking hand. "Dean, are you sure that's what he said? Are you positive that's what he called Sammy?" John basically whispered, having no strength to shield himself behind his cool, calm and collected exterior, feeling too overwhelmed by guilt, fear, betrayal, sadness and his own stupidity to hide his frightened tone from his son.

"Yeah Dad, I'm sure." Dean replied hesitantly, obviously sensing his father's turbulent emotions. "Why Dad? What's going on?"

"John! We're ready to go! How bout you shake a leg and get a move on?" Marc called in his normal cheeky, teasing fashion from inside John's motel room.

"Not now Dean," John hissed urgently, instinctively knowing that he couldn't be caught having a phone conversation with Dean at the moment, and especially not by Marc. "I'll call you when I can. In the meantime keep searching for your brother, and kept me updated." John said, hanging up on his son mid-speaking, feeling an all-encompassing _need_ to rush this son of a bitch, pounding his fists against Marc until John got the answers he wanted and needed.

But Sammy was missing; and this bastard obviously had something to do with it. John had to try and play it cool until he got the location of his youngest son and then he would let loose his fury upon Marc Ley-Lamp who had done far worse than betray John's trust. He had dared to touch his boy. And for that, John vowed that Marc's life-span was in danger of becoming extinct in the next twenty-four hours. Marc would learn first-hand what happened when anyone – supernatural or human – hurt one of his boys. Marc would be _begging_ for death by the time John was finished with him!

 **JW DW SW JW DW SW JW DW SW JW DW SW JW**

Sam's body sagged with relief when Sicko ordered his two henchmen to leave the room immediately, obviously agitated by whatever had just happened. With his hands still cuffed to the work-bench, his upper-body lying upon the bench, on the verge of succumbing to the darkness surrounding him, Sam pushed it back, instinctively wanting to know what had gotten Sicko so bent out of shape – it could be something that Sam could use to his advantage – as he pretended to be out for the count.

Squinting through barely open eyes, Sam could see Sicko give him a cursory glance before he spoke into a phone held against his ear. "Father," he greeted in a less than enthusiastic way. "To what do I own the pleasure of this call?"

Sicko tensed at the reply his father gave him; suddenly becoming defensive. "The fucking little bastard made me bleed … and maybe things _might_ have gotten a little out of hand and _maybe_ I might have lost control for a fraction of a second, but I'm in control now and I know exactly what I'm doing."

Sicko snarled loudly, clearly not impressed. "Agreement? Really Dad?! You're going to bring that piss-poor "agreement" that you have with this Demon Spawn to run away and live a _normal_ life, into this? If I didn't know any better I'd say that you feel _sorry_ for this … _thing_!"

Sicko looked over at Sam as he contemplated his father's words. "What plan?" He scoffed. "To let him go and live a _normal_ life while not punishing him for the crimes that he committed against you and disgracing our family name? Sounds to me like you're getting soft old man, so I decided to step in and _do_ something about it! You may be okay with letting a _monster_ off the hook, but I'm not!"

Sam couldn't help as his jaw dropped open in a silent gasp of shock as he tried to process Sicko's words. It was obvious that they were talking about him. But crimes against Sicko's father? What the hell was Sicko talking about? Sam had never hurt _anyone_ in his life – well, things that weren't evil anyway – he silently amended.

"None of that matters anymore Dad!" Sicko snapped in irritation. "I've heard it all before … you will avenge your beloved Mary's death by torturing and killing the _thing_ responsible for her murder …" Sicko intoned in a bored voice.

Mary? Were they … was Sicko talking about _his_ mother?

"Besides, it doesn't matter anymore where the little shit runs off too … I'll always be able to track him. I branded him with our symbol." Sicko declared proudly. "So, no matter where he goes, certain people – like us – will be able to tell what he is just by looking at him!"

Sicko's whole posture stiffened, his eyes narrowing in anger, his lips turning up into a cruel, dark smile. "Let them come," Sicko said dangerously. "I'm not fucking scared of either John or Dean Winchester!"

Sam's body jerked reflectively at the mention of his father and brother. Oh God, now they were involved in this too? After everything Sam had done to keep them out of it, to keep them safe and now …

Sam froze as Sicko moved toward him and began to run his fingers through Sam's hair, Sam violently trying to repress the urge to shudder or move away from Sicko's touch. If he wanted to know what was going on, he had to remain as "unconscious" for as long as he could.

Sicko rolled his eyes. "Yes Dad, another speech I've heard a thousand times before; how long it took you to track John Winchester down, how hard it was for you to gain the great man's trust … really Dad, I don't give a fucking shit about that. Your plan is too _slow_! So I decided to speed it up a bit by calling Dean Winchester."

Discreetly Sam blinked back the moisture within his eyes, remembering that Dean had been on the line while Sicko had "broken" him.

"What? Why?" Sicko's hand stilled in Sam's hair, his face scrunched up with displeasure. "I'm not scared of Dean Winchester! Let him come! Besides … I'm eager to teach that little obnoxious bastard a lesson he'll never forget … what?! Protocol Four? Dad, there's no need to … I didn't ruin … Dad … Dad!"

Sicko pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at it in disbelief before he hurled it violently against the wall, screaming out his frustration, obviously very distraught by what he had been told to do.

Sam watched as Sicko left the room, a feeling of apprehension falling upon him. What the hell is Protocol Four? Was Sam's last thought before he succumbed to the darkness' enticing embrace.

 **TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes. Darker chapter once more.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Introducing new character, Caelan Hagan. Hope you enjoy.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Kas3y** for your kind review. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER NINE**

Sam's blissful, pain-free oblivion was brought to a screeching holt when Sam regained his senses at the feel of lips upon his neck, the sucking motion leaving his neck stinging as Sam tried to jerk his head away from the intrusion, but was held in place when the hand within his hair tightened his hold painfully, forcing Sam to remain in this position.

Oh God, why couldn't they get it over with and just kill him all ready? Sam thought miserably, a low moan of disgust and self-pity emerging before he could stop it as useless girly tears sprung into his eyes.

How much more of this _crap_ did he have to take? If Protocol Four was to get rid of him, like he assumed it was, then he wished they would stop playing around and just do it all ready!

Sam honestly didn't know how much more he could take. Being tortured, beaten, branded and handcuffed to the wall was one thing, but all of the other stuff … the sexual innuendoes, being completely stark naked, being forced to participate in sexual …

Sam choked off a sob, deliberately cutting that thought off, not wanting to dwell, remember or even _think_ about what he had been forced to endure and do. He already felt pathetic enough; humiliated and ashamed because son of John Winchester should _never_ have allowed that to happen at all!

What would Dad say when he learned the truth? What would Dean … would they hate him; think he was disgusting or maybe that he was _soiled_ , contaminated, sullied … unclean? Maybe they would think that he _deserved_ it, considering that he had effectively abandoned them and hadn't spoken a word to them in the two years he had been gone. Maybe they would think he was getting exactly what was owed to him considering that he had gotten Mary Winchester killed and was connected to the Demon somehow and that maybe this didn't even _begin_ to make up for all that he had done and all that he would become. Maybe the only way that he could truly atone for his sins was by his death.

Sam was quite prepared to die. Hell, give him a gun and he'd do it right now, no hesitation, no second-guessing, because it had become painfully obvious to him that there would be no other way for him to atone for his sins and crimes.

If eleven years of "punishments" hadn't been able to save him or cleanse him of his sins, then Sam knew that the only other option was death. If these fuckers didn't kill him, then Sam would have no problem in completing the mission himself.

The only reason he hadn't done the deed already was because these fuckers had threatened his brother. If he was no longer around, did that mean that they would start to "punish" Dean for the sole crime of being Sam's older brother? Or Dad? Could Sam take that risk of inadvertently putting his brother's life in danger?

No. No he couldn't. As much as Sam wanted all of this to end, was _terrified_ in facing his older brother and father after this, Sam _knew_ that he could never put his big brother in danger (whether intentionally or not). Before Sam ended his miserable existence of a life, he had to make sure that both his father and brother would never be harmed because of him. It wasn't their fault that they had the unfortunate coincidence of being Sam's older brother and father. Whatever it took, Sam was determined to free his family – and that included Caelan too, if he still wanted to have anything to do with Sam when learning that Sam was responsible for his father's death – of the curse that should be his and his alone to bare. Once Sam was confident of his family's safety, Sam would finally remove the stain from their lives and the Winchester name could once again be something to be proud of.

"Mmm …" Sicko murmured delightedly. "Just thought I would give you a parting gift before I leave as a reminder of whom you now belong to and a promise that I _will_ be back and we will do this again _very_ soon." Sicko ran his tongue over the mark that he had just made upon Sam's neck while Sam squirmed uncomfortably beneath him. "Daddy dearest has initiated Protocol four; which means that I have to haul butt out of here. But don't worry, Pansy and Mouse will keep you company until your brother gets here to rescue you."

Sam's eyes widened in both surprise and disappointment, because on some level Sam knew that he didn't _deserve_ to be rescued, he had convinced himself that he was more than likely going to die today, but now …

"You look shocked little Demon Spawn," Sicko chuckled dryly. "Yeah, what can I say? I wanted our time together to be longer too. And I really wanted to be able to _break_ your brother just like I've broken you!"

Sam growled low in his throat as he shot Sicko a withering death-glare that even Dean would have been proud of.

"Easy little Demon Spawn," Sicko patted Sam's hair clumsily in a mockery of a reassuring gesture. "Looks like that plan is out … at least, for now. So, here's what's going to happen; I am going to put you somewhere where you'll be contained, leaving Peter and Hank to look after you while I make my speedy exit. Deano … and no doubt Caelan, will barge in here to rescue you … once I text Dean the address and let him know where his precious baby brother is … Peter and Hank – along with their Dads – get blamed for this whole event, while me and my Dad escape to live another day and to plan our next "punishment sessions". That in essence is Protocol Four."

Sam couldn't help but stare at Sicko incredulously. He was going to leave his buddies behind to take the heat of both Dean and Caelan's wrath while he ran away like a complete and utter coward, deliberately framing, abandoning and leaving his friend's behind all so he could get out of this situation unharmed?

"Now, before you get any bright ideas to tell Peter and Hank about my plans, I'm afraid I'm going to have to gag you." Quickly Sicko pulled the gag from within his jacket and tied it behind Sam's head securely; grinning at the weak attempt Sam made to get out of his hold.

"On a side note, my Dad said that he would take care of your Dad … so, you will probably never see your Daddy again. But, first things first; I'm going to let my buddies _play_ with you for a while. Sometimes I love to sit back and _watch_!" Sicko grinned evilly.

 **SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW**

John took a moment to run both hands through his hair, stilling his racing heart, taking several deep breaths before expertly schooling his features into his classic stoic John Winchester expression before opening the bathroom door and coming face to face with Marc Ley-Lamp.

It took every ounce of self-control that John possessed not to attack his traitorous ex-friend right then and there. Until he had evidence of Marc's involvement of Sam's apparent abduction or he had verbal confirmation from Marc himself, John knew that he had to go along with Marc's deception for the time being. If he acted impulsively and attacked Marc now, John knew that he would never get his son's location and he would more than likely have two other wrathful Hunters on his hands.

Until John knew for sure what the hell was going on, he had to keep his temper and act like nothing had changed between them. "Sorry Marc," John said, forcing a light smile onto his lips. "Just had to take care of a couple of things."

"Oh?" Marc raised his eyebrow slightly, a flicker of concern within his pale blue eyes. "Everything all right John? You look a little … tense."

"Everything's fine Marc," John lied easily, waving his hand dismissively as he grabbed his bags and moved toward the door, tensing slightly when he passed Marc on the way.

"You sure?" Marc prodded. "Cause I could have sworn I heard you talking to someone and you sounded upset."

John stiffened at Marc's words before he swivelled his head to look at Marc, shrugging his shoulders indifferently. "Yeah, you did. Caleb called to reveal some details that he neglected to mention about my next hunt. Kind of let my temper get the better of me." John forced his smile wider. "You know how I get about the details of the hunt, right Marc? Every little bit counts."

Marc eyed John doubtfully before he burst out laughing. "Damn Johnny, you're almost _obsessive_ when it comes to the details of the hunt." He agreed with a nod, following John out of the motel room.

John winced at Marc's use of his nickname that John only ever let a few people who were close to him call him, now hating the way that name sounded on Marc's deceitful, conniving lips. "Yep. Caleb got the pattern mixed up so now I have a full day with nothing to do except research."

John threw his bags into the back of his truck and paused before he turned to eye Marc carefully. "Don't really feel like researching at the moment … what do you say Marc, you want to grab a drink with me before I hit the road?"

Marc hesitated for a split second before he smiled and nodded slightly. "That sounds good." Marc consented with a light smile. "Give me an hour while I sort Adams and Stewart out and I'll meet you at that bar across town."

"Sounds like a plan," John agreed. "See you in an hour Marc," John said as he slipped into his truck, the fake smile pulling at his face, making the muscles ache before John put the truck in gear and took off out of the motel parking lot, shooting a glance in the rear-view mirror, sighing with relief when he saw Marc in the distance, the smile instantly leaving his face.

He wasn't sure if Marc would have let him leave or not, considering he had told whoever he'd been talking to on the phone that "he'd deal with the Winchesters". John had honestly been expecting a knife in the back or a bullet to the skull and he was insanely relieved that Marc had not done either of those things and seemed content to let John leave.

Obviously John's acting skills weren't as bad as he thought. Now all he needed to do was to get Adams and Stewart out of the way before he had some _quality_ one on one time with Marc Ley-Lamp.

 **JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW**

Twenty minutes later, Peter and Hank were dragging a barely conscious Sam Winchester out of the "torture room" – as Sam had morbidly coined it – and through the abandoned warehouse. Sam's head hung dejectedly, the will to fight gone out of him long ago, new whip marks added to the old ones, new bruises, and new pain throughout the entire length of his body.

Sam knew that Sicko's last taunt at him about his father not surviving the encounter with Sicko's father should have worried him, completely unravelling him, but Sam was confident that John Winchester could get out of any situation – even if the odds were stacked against him! – because John didn't go into anything blindly and he was too damn good to get caught unawares (unlike his youngest son).

Sam didn't care where they were taking him, positive that there could be nothing worse they could do to him, full-blown depression and self-hatred slamming into him and for a brief moment, Sam gave into his overwhelming, despondent, apathetic feeling until he heard a familiar sound – that he hadn't heard in five years, but would never forget – of a door being unlocked by a heavy lock.

Sam's head shot up, his eyes growing wide with horror and disbelief. He'd been wrong to think that there was nothing worse they could do to him, because this was worse … much worse.

No! Sam tried to call out through the gag in his mouth, his body going taunt as he desperately tried to back-peddle away. Sam screamed as loud as he could when Peter and Hank pulled him toward this dreadful contraption, Sam's efforts to pull away not even fazing them.

Sam didn't care that tears were streaming down his face now, he didn't care how pathetic he sounded as a low keening sound came from him, bordering on hyperventilating, his breaths fast and panicked as he gazed into Sicko's eyes, imploring him not to do this … anything but this … please!

Sicko smirked, delighted by Sam's abject terror of one of the usual "punishment devices" that had been used on Sam in previous years. "I brought this here especially for you little Demon Spawn, because I know how much you _love_ being locked up in there."

No! No! No!

Sam's terror reached an all-time high as he was shoved into the steel-metal box that was only big enough for Sam to sit crouched in, completely pitch-black darkness, not being able to hear anything going on around him, not being able to see, crouched in the same position until his muscles cramped, having no way to stretch out or to take the pain away, left for days on end, water being dropped on him every now and then, food once every two days, being left in his own … filth.

No! Sam would rather die than go back in there!

Bracing his hands against the frame, Sam resisted being pulled in all the way, finding a reserve of strength that he didn't know he possessed until he felt the familiar shocking pain of the Taser at his side and he couldn't help but release his grip on the frame as he was pushed in, the door sealed and locked behind him.

No!

Sam beat his fists against the door, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably, desperately trying to escape from this dreaded "torture box" that Sam would have continual nightmares about, that made him scared of the dark, which caused about ninety percent of his panic-attacks, making him extremely clingy, not wanting to leave Dean's side or Dean to leave his side for a second in case they got him and stuck him in this damn box again!

And now … now Sam was back in there, all of the punishments that he had received for the last eleven years rushing upon him all at once, his hands bleeding because of his frantic pounding upon the door as Sam curled up in a corner, rocking back and forwards, sobbing continuously, feeling as if he had lost his fucking mind as he sank deeper and deeper into terror and despair.

 **SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW**

The gnawing, anxious feeling within Dean grew into almost full-blown panic as he headed over to pick Caelan up after the phone call he'd had with his Dad.

Dean wasn't sure if the horrible – wrong – feeling within him was to do with his Dad's abrupt end of the conversation – he had obviously discovered something that he didn't want Dean to know about just now. Did that mean his Dad was in danger? – or because they still hadn't located his missing brother. And after the Dead Fucker had called him, to taunt him, to show Dean that he was in control … after Dean had heard his brother's screams and broken sobs, Dean knew that he had to find Sammy before it was too late.

Maybe it was a combination of both his Dad and baby brother being in trouble which caused Dean's … wrong feeling. Whatever the reason, Dean was determined to find his brother and save him before the unthinkable happened.

Dean was in the process of filling Caelan in on the latest events, Caelan's eyes growing wide, his face paling visibly at each word that Dean spoke when Dean's phone chimed, indicating that he had a new text message.

"So what you're telling me is that both John _and_ Sammy are in trouble now?" Caelan inquired as Dean retrieved his phone from his front shirt pocket. "Do you think one of us should head over to John's location?"

Dean shook his head at Caelan's suggestion. "If Dad had wanted back-up, he would have asked. Besides, he gave an order for us to find Sammy. Whatever Dad's up to, I'm sure he can handle it." Dean stated bluntly, distractedly, as he read a message from an unfamiliar, unknown number, a local address with directions, followed by the words: "Come and join the party Deano …"

"I guess you're right," Caelan sighed in resignation. "It just sucks that we're so far away to be able to help your Dad … dude, what is it?" Caelan demanded, watching as Dean's face drained of colour, a slight shakiness to his hands.

"The Dead Fucker …" Dean swallowed hard. "Just sent me an address to Sam's possible location." Dean's shock quickly dissolved and was replaced with a sly, knowing, dark smirk. "What do you say Cal; ready to go kick some butt and bring Sammy home?"

Caelan's expression set in determination, his dark eyes burning with intensity and calm focus. "Hell yeah, let's go get the kid back!"

"Hang on Sammy, we're coming!" Dean said, pushing his foot down harder upon the accelerator, eager to find his brother and kick some Hunter ass!

 **TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Introducing new character, Caelan Hagan. Hope you enjoy. I'm really nervous about this chapter.

 **Special Note:** Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER TEN**

Dean was in the back of the Impala, rummaging through the trunk and putting together a bag of weapons and ammunition that they would need in order to storm the warehouse and rescue Sammy.

It was obvious that they were dealing with people – granted they were sick and soon to be _dead_ people, possibly Hunters – and not anything supernatural as Dean made sure to pack lots of guns, spare clips, knives and anything else that he could think of in order to defeat possible Hunters.

They had no idea how many people were in there. Dean had heard two distinct, _different_ voices when Dead Fucker had called him to brag, but there was no way to tell how many more of them could be in there.

Dean wasn't stupid. He knew this was most likely a trap, but Dean figured that the advantages outweighed the risk factors. He wanted to find Sammy and bring him home. And Dean didn't care what he had to do to accomplish that, but he would … even if he ended up captured alongside his brother, at least they would be together and Sam wouldn't be alone anymore.

"So?" Dean asked, his voice low and soft as Caelan joined him at the rear of the Impala after quietly scoping out the warehouse.

"It's quiet," Caelan revealed, a slight frown forming. "Really quiet. I don't know Dean, there's something about this that doesn't seem right. No guards on the doors; although I did spot two cars out the back, so at least we know that someone is here. One of them was just a generic undistinguishable common Ford Focus, but the other one … the other car is really distinct and I know that I've seen it before … I just can't place where."

"What type of car is it?" Dean asked, his heart beating faster in response to Caelan's slightly nervous and worried body language.

"Red Ferrari 360," Caelan replied in a snort. "Really dude, who the hell would drive around in something so … recognizable? Even if it had been jacked … no Hunter would be foolish enough to steal something like that which would be recognized in seconds. They'd have to be a flaming idiot to drive around in something that!"

Dean couldn't help but agree with his friend's assessment. Generally, as a rule, Hunters wanted to attract as _little_ attention as possible. Driving around in a Ferrari 360 was clearly a beacon – neon sign – to alert authorities to your whereabouts (especially if stolen)!

If a Hunter was driving around in a Ferrari 360, they were either a complete idiot or they were too cocky and self-assured to worry about the ramifications that would be caused driving around in such a noticeable vehicle.

Wait a minute … self-absorbed, cocky, liked to throw his wealth around and flaunt it in Hunters faces? That sounded like … But no, surely not. His Dad was one of the few respected and admired old-school Hunters around. Why would his _son_ be caught up in something so … shady as kidnapping and torture?

"Show me." Dean demanded seriously.

Caelan's frown deepened at Dean's sudden tense attitude, but, without a word, Caelan lead Dean around the back of the warehouse and pointed out … huh. Now there was only _one_ car left in the parking spaces; the non-descript Ford Focus having disappeared, leaving only the showy red Ferrari 360.

"Sonuvabitch!" Dean hissed under his breath, instantly recognizing the car and knowing who it belonged to.

"What?" Caelan asked, automatically mirroring his friend's tense posture. "You recognize it?"

"Yeah," Dean muttered through clenched teeth. "This car belongs to the not so shy, brash, know-it-all, thinks he's better than everyone else but can't hunt for shit … Peter Stewart."

"Stewart? But the … the Stewart family have been well respected and admired Hunters for generations! Why the hell would Roger Stewart's _son_ resort to kidnapping a fellow Hunter's son?" Caelan couldn't help but splutter in shock. "Dean, this makes no damn sense at all!"

"I don't care." Dean growled, hands clenched at his sides, his green eyes flashing with dark rage. "We can _question_ the bastard as much as we like _after_ we get Sammy back! Caelan, let's get ready to move!"

 **DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW**

Sam had screamed himself hoarse, his eyes wide and unblinking, too petrified to cry, sinking deeper and deeper into madness, feeling something fracturing within him as he muttered incoherently to himself just so he knew he was still _there_ , still alive and not having being swallowed up by the darkness.

Sam had never been so scared before in his entire life! Being inside of this box again had reduced him to a shaking, quivering mess of terrified – out-of-his-freaking-mind – Sam Winchester, with some scary ass delusions on the side as he laughed hysterically, bordering on the sounds of madness.

He had to get out of here! He had to get out of here before he became lost within his own mind forever! Was this even _real_? Or was Sam dreaming; having a very vivid flashback or a nightmare?

Sam couldn't answer that, he didn't know, as he continued to laugh, curling himself up tightly into a ball, finding a little comfort in the fact that he could _feel_ himself. If he could feel himself, then that meant that he hadn't disappeared, he hadn't given into his craziness … at least, not yet.

Sam feared that it wouldn't be long before he surrendered to his inner-madness, not sure how much more of this damn _box_ he could take! At this rate, by the time Dean found him, he'd be bucket-loads of crazy and his family would have no choice but to lock him up in a mental institution to live out his remaining days, stuck with hallucinations of his mind.

Sam's boarder-lining laugh of insanity quickly turned into sobs, realising that killing him out-right was a merciful ending which he probably didn't deserve. He was not allowed to find peace … How could he find peace and be able to rest when The Demon who had killed his mother was still out there? Was Mary Winchester at least resting in peace? Or was she suffering through torment and agony because of the horrendous and brutal way that she had died?

Sam would like to think that his mother was at least at rest, that she had found someplace to come to an understanding of acceptance and that she was at least content in the after-life. Because if Mary had at least managed to find contentment, acceptance and peace … that meant there was hope for him too. Maybe in death, he would be able to find all of the things that he had wanted to experience in life.

"Easy Sam Winchester," a low, soothing voice spoke against Sam's ear, a light hand placed upon his shoulder in comfort.

Sam had thought he'd screamed himself hoarse, but he surprised himself by letting loose a blood-curling scream, badly scaring himself in the process.

"Easy," the almost musical voice calmly instructed him. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"Who … _what_ are you? And how the hell can you even _fit_ in this little space with me?" Sam asked, feeling the hysterical laughter bubbling up within him once more. Great, now he was talking to his hallucinations! Yep, he'd definitely lost the plot this time!

"I'm not a hallucination," the distinctly male voice told him, a slight edge of humour to his tone. "I'm just here to keep you company, to keep you calm and … lucid until your brother gets here."

Sam swallowed hard. "Yeah, right!" he spat out, unwilling to believe, to hope, only to have it ripped away from him again.

The voice sighed gently. "Don't you remember Sam? From the first moment they shoved you in this box back when you were only ten-years old, I've been there with you, guiding you, helping you through your pain, your terror, your doubt. I've _always_ been here for you Sam. And I will always be here when you need me in the future. I'm nothing to be scared or frightened of … I promise."

Vaguely Sam recalled the instances that this voice – _being_ – told him about and against his better judgement, he found himself relaxing slightly. "So, what are you then? Some trick of the mind, spirit or maybe … guardian angel?"

The voice laughed softly. "Well, I'm definitely not either a trick of your mind or a spirit." The voice responded amused. "I'm not really a guardian angel either … although; since I do _guard_ and watch over you … I guess that's the closest explanation of what I am." The voice replied as he placed a hand upon Sam's forehead, a warm soothing glow emanating from his hand.

"Huh." Sam mumbled, suddenly feeling extremely sleepy now, feeling totally at ease and relaxed within the voice's presence.

"Don't worry Sam, your older brother's almost here and then you will never be put in this cursed box ever again!"

"Man, I hope not," Sam said, his words beginning to slur now. "If you … not an … angel … what do I call you?" Sam got out before he drifted off to sleep – or fell unconscious – free from his aches and pains for the time being.

"You can call me Nirkish, Sam Winchester – that's what your Dad and your friend Caelan call me – and you're welcome. Don't worry; you won't remember this conversation at all." The voice said affectionately, wishing that he could cover the young man's bruised, bloody and naked body, but knowing that he could leave no trace of his existence behind.

"Rest now. Don't worry kid; I'll be seeing you real soon." The voice chuckled softly as he slowly departed from the box and removed himself from the building, just as he heard the front door being kicked in and Dean Winchester's roaring voice, bellowing, demanding to know where his brother was, full of wrathful fury and vengeance.

Dean was here now and Sam would be safe, that's all Nirkish needed to know before he vanished completely from sight, knowing how much trouble he was going to be in today because of all of the interfering he had done. The Wise Ones would not be happy, but it was worth it to know that Sam Winchester would be safe.

 **SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW**

Caelan's mind was reeling with the implications of actually knowing that _Hunters_ were involved with the youngest Winchester's abduction and subsequent torture, possibly having been involved with punishing the young man for years.

It was one thing to theorize and put forward relevant suggestions that may pertain to certain circumstances or events, but to have actual _physical_ confirmation that Hunters were involved – at least with Sam's current abduction – made Caelan feel extremely nervous. And what made it worse was that both John and Dean had worked with this particular Hunter, his father asking John to give his son some pointers on hunting. The Stewart's were among one of the oldest and most respected family of the Hunters community. To think that they would turn around and …

Caelan gritted his teeth together, his hand gripping tightly upon the weapon he held within his hand, his expression immediately hardened and focused as he waited for Dean's signal to enter the warehouse through the back door. The plan was simple enough, Dean would go through the front, making as much noise as possible, drawing all potential threats toward him, while Caelan would enter through the back, take out any stragglers, sneak up behind the ones who had Dean surrounded and then the two of them would attack and take down the assailants before they located Sam Winchester and got the hell out of there … hopefully with all of their body parts intact!

While Caelan wasn't a big fan of Dean acting as bait, they both knew that Caelan was more skilled with sneak attacks than Dean. An even better plan would have been to call on some other Hunters for back-up, but they didn't know who they could trust and didn't have time to wait, both of them anxious to get the young man out of these sadistic bastards hands as soon as possible. So that left the brash and slightly crazy plan as the only available option to the two Hunters.

Caelan's body tensed in anticipation as he heard Dean's muffled voice from inside of the warehouse, sounding pissed and deadly in typical Dean Winchester fashion when confronting _anyone_ who had hurt his little brother.

Caelan almost felt sorry for them until he recalled the way Sam's voice had trembled with obvious pain and fear and Caelan's resolve strengthened, waiting until he heard Dean's voice move further into the warehouse before he stood up from his crouched position and prepared to enter the warehouse through the back door, knowing that no matter what happened, they would be getting Sam Winchester back!

 **CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH**

Dean kicked open the front door, grinning in satisfaction at the loud splintering noise it made; seeing a boot-sized hole within the rotten wooden door. "Hey! Dead Fucker! Here I am, you son of a bitch! Now give me back my brother before I cut your fucking lungs out!"

Dean entered the building, gun in one hand, knife in the other, anger – which would normally limit a man's focus and make him sloppy – fuelled Dean's concentration and determination as he stomped through the warehouse, wanting these fuckers to know that he was here and he was coming for them.

"Peter Stewart … I know you're here … I saw your piece of crap car out the back and let's just say you'll be needed a new paint job!" Dean smirked as he remembered deliberately keying the Ferrari 360 on both sides, making numerous marks that would be impossible to get out through sanding alone.

"If you return Sam right now, without any trouble or trying to fight me, I'll guarantee that your car will remain in one piece … I'll defuse the bomb that I placed under it and we can all go our own separate ways!" Dean lied, hoping that comment would draw the bastard out. Dean knew that if someone threatened to destroy his baby, he'd be out here in a flash, guns blazing.

Sure enough, two minutes later Peter Stewart was striding toward him, fire within his blue eyes, and a murderous expression upon his pretty-boy face. "Dean Winchester … you better not have ruined my car!" he said, his nostrils flaring with indignant rage. "Or I will take a fucking baseball bat to your crappy out-dated car!"

Dean twisted his lips into a half-smile, and before Peter could even blink, Dean shoved Peter up against the wall, his knife pressing firmly against the jugular of this pretentious Hunter. "You know, as if drugging, kidnapping and torturing my kid brother wasn't bad enough … now you had to go and _threaten_ my baby! Sorry Peter, but there's no way I can let you live after a comment like that."

Peter swallowed hard, his blue eyes widening in fear when he realised that Dean would go through with his promise if he didn't quickly think of something to defuse the volatile Winchester and defend his actions. "Now, wait a minute Dean," Peter said, his voice rising shrilly in panic. "This has been just a little misunderstanding okay? It was a joke … a prank gone bad … you know how that goes, right?"

Dean quirked a sceptical eyebrow as he pressed his knife deeper against the wannabe Hunter's neck. "Huh." He said, disbelief evident within that one word. "I only want to know two things from you right now _Peter_ ; How many of you bastards are responsible for this and _where the hell is my brother_?!"

Peter trembled within Dean's vice-like grip, knowing by the look within Dean Winchester's deepening green eyes how close to the edge Dean was in taking his life! "W-wait!" Peter gasped. "It's not what you think okay? It wasn't my idea … I swear! Me and Hank … we were called in at the last minute … we haven't even been here long, maybe an hour tops. Dean, I swear, I never touched your brother!"

Dean watched Peter's eyes roam everywhere else but look him in the eyes and Dean nearly stabbed the guy on principal for flat out lying to him. But as much as Dean would have loved nothing better than to run this sorry-for-an-excuse-Hunter-and-man through with his knife, itching to see this coward's blood upon his blade, Dean knew that killing a Hunter – no matter what they had done, but especially the old-school Hunters – would only cause all-out war between the Hunters and the Winchesters. Still that didn't mean Dean couldn't rough him up a little bit.

"Liar," Dean growled, smirking with pleasure as he felt bones crunching under his fist as it connected solidly with Peter's nose. "That's for threatening my baby." Dean added, watching as Peter bawled like a baby, grabbing at his broken nose, all of the fight seeming to leave him.

"Ow! You fucking crazy bastard!" Peter wailed, his voice muffled as he tried to stem the flow of blood that was streaming from his nose.

"One more time Peter … and you better give me the answers that I want or I'm going to start breaking your fingers one by one until you tell me what I want to know." Dean narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice darkly to let Peter know that he was through playing around. "How many of you are here and where is my brother?"

"If I tell you … what's to s-stop you fr-from kill-killing me?" Peter asked, his voice rising obnoxiously loud in his panic. "If you hu-hurt me, my father will destroy you!"

"Please!" Dean scoffed. "I'm not scared of your father. Besides, who said I'm going to kill you straight away? If you don't start talking, I could make you suffer like you've never suffered before Peter. So, it's in your best interests to tell me what I want to know, right?" Dean smiled sweetly, pressing his blade even deeper into Peter's neck until he drew blood. "Last chance Peter before you really piss me off and I get serious!"

"Okay … okay … you win," Peter quickly said, knowing that he had pushed Dean to his limits. "There's just me and Hank here, okay?"

"Hank Adams?" Dean frowned at the familiar Hunters name, knowing that the Adams' were another old-school, highly respected family of Hunters within the Hunting community.

"Yes. Hank's Dad and my Dad grew up together and became hunting partners … just like me and Hank are hunting partners now. I swear, there's no one else here."

Peter's eyes stayed firmly upon Dean's and Dean nodded, satisfied that Peter was telling the truth, knowing that Caelan would have no trouble in taking down a single Hunter. Hank was good – better than Peter in every sense – but he was no match for Caelan Hagan."

"Okay, now we're getting somewhere," Dean pulled his knife back from Peter's throat a little to let the other Hunter know that Dean believed him. "Now, where's my brother?"

"He's out the back, off the main room in one of the executive offices. Dean, I'll take you to him." Peter replied eagerly, his blue eyes lightening up with hope, praying that he could still reason with the enraged Winchester … although when Dean saw the state Sam was in … Peter gulped nervously, quickly pushing that thought to the back of his mind, trying to focous on one problem at a time.

Dean searched Peter's eyes for a long minute before he released four devastating blows upon the Hunter's face, effectively leaving him knocked out cold. "Thanks. But I've got this." Dean replied sarcastically, letting Peter drop to the ground before he brutally kicked Peter in the ribs once … twice … three times. "And that's for my brother … you son of a bitch!" Dean growled, looking down upon Peter's bruised and bloody face gleefully.

"You think I'm bad," Dean told the unconscious Hunter as he quickly handcuffed Peter's hands behind his back and tied his legs together to prevent the Hunter's escape. "Just wait until _my Dad_ gets a hold of you!"

Dean gave Peter one more kick for good measure before he reached down, grabbed the Hunter by the hair and dragged his unconscious ass behind him, moving further into the warehouse, searching for both the room told him about and his friend, anxious to find his brother now. "Hold on Sammy, nearly there little brother!"

 **TBC**


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Introducing new character, Caelan Hagan. Hope you enjoy. Here's the first of many chapters that begin to explain why the duo Hunters of father and son have targeted Sammy for all of these years. I really struggled with this chapter and the next few chapters because of the information content. Hope I explained it so all of you can understand it too!

 **Special Note:** Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER ELEVEN**

John Winchester made sure that his gun was discreetly concealed inside of his jacket, waiting for Marc to show up at the local pub while he contemplated what his next move should be. He couldn't really do much until Sammy was found. While he remained missing, John feared that any kind of attack upon Marc's life would put his young son at risk.

John was often bold and brash; he could even be accused of being kind of reckless at times, but when it came to his children's safety … any risk was too high.

He didn't know who was working with Marc or how many were involved. He didn't even know who Marc had spoken to on the phone – that's why he hesitated in calling either Caleb or Bobby in for back-up – knowing that as unlikely as it seemed that Caleb or Bobby would be involved in kidnapping a fellow Hunter's kid … he had to be extra cautious.

Sam's life was on the line and John – although every instinct tole him to do the exact opposite – had to remain calm and cautious. He would _not_ sacrifice his son's life on his – often out of control – temper until he knew for sure what was going on and how many were involved. John was on his own (except for his oldest son Dean and surrogate son Caelan, who were on the mission to find Sammy and bring him home).

John quickly glanced at his phone – no missed calls, no new text messages – and let out a soft exhale, hoping that Dean or Caelan would contact him with good news soon. All of this waiting around bullshit was really starting to grate on his every nerve. He was an action man; a doer; being confined to patiently sit and wait for things to happen had never been his strongest attribute.

Although since becoming a Hunter, his patience had increased dramatically to the point where sometimes John enjoyed sitting in a library or a quiet motel room researching the case – the hunt – he was working on. Research helped to calm his mind and thoughts when he couldn't get a handle on a case or if his boys were giving him grief … especially Sammy!

John couldn't help the affectionate, fond smile that crossed his expression. Damn kid pushed his patience every damn time with his questions, continually pushing John's buttons until John felt like he was going to explode!

And as much as that inquisitive, curious nature of his youngest son gave him the most grief, it was also one of the qualities that John loved best about his son. Sam wasn't afraid to ask the questions, to voice his opinion when he disagreed with John's assessment. Most of the time it was a colossal thorn in John's side but sometimes – more often than John cared to admit – John would gain some new insight into the case because of his youngest son's outbursts.

Sam was the last gift that his beloved Mary had given him and John would be damned if he would allow either Hunter – human – or supernatural – The Demon – to hurt and destroy his baby boy who had the kindest and gentlest soul that he had inherited from his late Mother. John's lips stretched into thin lines of unwavering resolve; he _would_ get his son back and he _would_ make every one of those bastards pay for ever having lay a hand on his kid!

John was interrupted from his thoughts by the feel of someone's intense gaze upon him. John lifted his eyes and swept the bar for any immediate threats with a practiced eye, his eyes finally coming to rest upon the pale blue orbs of Marc Ley-Lamp.

Marc's expression morphed into a bright smile when he noticed John's calculating gaze upon him, waving a quick hand in greeting before he marched over to John's table and sat down opposite him.

John was genuinely surprised that Marc had shown up at all. He expected that March would either have high-tailed it out of town as fast as he could, or he would have brought Stewart and Adams with him for extra support and back-up. He never expected the man to turn up alone.

John forced a smile in greeting, chiding himself for completely underestimating this guy. From the moment John had overheard Marc's conversation, John had been shocked by this man's actions; time for him to stop thinking of this man as a friend and fellow hunting partner. As much as it pained him and bruised his ego to do so, John had no choice but to slip Marc into the category of unknown threat and enemy, watching him out of wary, suspicious eyes, even when trying to play along and act like nothing had changed between them.

"Marc, glad you could make it," John shook the Hunter's hand, waving toward the waitress, ordering another round of drinks for the two of them. "I wasn't sure if you were coming; considering I've been sitting here for nearly two hours now." John's smile widened, even as his eyes narrowed slightly at Marc suspiciously. "Thought maybe you decided to leave with Adams and Stewart after all." He gently prodded.

"Almost did," Marc admitted with a self-conscious chuckle. "But then I decided … what the hell? May as well meet up with my good buddy for a drink before we part ways."

Something within the tone of Marc's voice had John's Hunter instincts screaming at him that something was wrong. This was all wrong.

"Besides, leaving without giving you any kind of explanation … I may be a self-absorbed, obsessive bastard, but I really have grown to like you John and respect you as a Hunter. You're a good man and it makes me ashamed to think that once upon a time _I hated you with a passion_!

 **JW DW CH JW DW CH JW DW CH JW DW CH JW**

Dean dragged Peter along by the hair until he reached the main room of the warehouse where he discovered Caelan standing over an unconscious body, his lip bleeding but otherwise unharmed.

"I knew you could handle _him_ by yourself!" Dean grinned at his friend proudly as he dumped Peter's unmoving form next to his buddy, not caring about any additional damage he might have caused the man.

Caelan glanced down at the bloody, beaten face next to him and looked at Dean questioningly. "Really Dean?" he demanded, gesturing toward the man's almost unrecognizable face. "You couldn't help yourself, could you? I thought we _agreed_ not to cause these Hunters any unnecessary injuries until we got some answers."

Dean smirked. "Yeah, well, this guy gave me all _sorts_ of trouble!" Dean insisted, his eyes widening innocently. "I didn't have a choice Cal."

Caelan swept his gaze over his unharmed friend. "Aha." He stated, unconvinced by Dean's words. "I know what you mean dude, Hank here … well shit … he was struggling and fighting against my hold so much that he "accidentally" broke his arm … and possible his wrist."

Dean's smirk widened before the two of them burst out laughing. "Man, we're hopeless!" Caelan told Dean.

Dean shrugged unconcerned. "We agreed not to kill them Cal … nobody said anything about no roughing up a bit. Besides, if Sammy's in bad shape, I may have to renege on our deal and kill those SOBS on principal alone." Dean warned, his green eyes narrowing and flashing with a protective streak.

"Let's just find Sammy," Caelan replied complacently. "And then we'll go from there, okay Dean?"

Reluctantly Dean nodded. "Agreed. Peter said that Sammy was in the executive office. He better not have lied to me or he'll have more than a broken nose to worry about!"

Caelan chuckled softly beside Dean. "Knowing your _persuasive_ skills, I'm sure that Peter would have no reason to lie. And I assume you _told_ him what would happen if he lied …" Caelan couldn't help but tease his friend, hoping to lighten the mood a little.

"Holy shit!" Caelan gasped, all teasing and mirth vanishing in an instant when he spotted a metal-steel box in the centre of the room which couldn't have been big enough to sit in. let alone house a fully grown man in. Monitors surrounded both sides of the room, all of them featuring different angles of inside of the box; all of them displaying the huddled form of Sam Winchester.

His head rested upon the top of his knees, right arm encircling the base of his legs, left arm hanging limply by his side, rocking back and forwards, tears slipping down his checks, nonsense words escaping him, his completely naked body covered with bruises and blood from head to foot; his back – dear God! – was criss-crossed with whip marks.

Almost as if he could sense the two Hunters, Sam lifted his head, staring directly into the camera ahead of him. "Please," Sam begged, his hazel eyes wide; his puppy-dog look in full effect that no one – except maybe John Winchester – could resist. "Let me out of here. I just want to go home … Please don't hurt Dean or Caelan because of me. Please don't … let me out … I won't fight anymore … I promise."

A choked off half-sob, half-gasp sounding from beside him, brought Caelan out of his numbed and horrified thoughts as Dean strode toward the box, kneeling down beside it to place his hands upon the door.

"I'm here Sammy," Dean whispered, his voice cracking and shaking as he fought to supress his tears. "I'm here little brother. I'm going to get you out of there, okay? Hold on little brother, hold on."

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the shock of seeing his brother so beaten and _broken_ slowly wearing off as another feeling surged within him. A need … a desperate, aching need … to get his baby brother out of there right now!

Dean growled when he noticed a padlock upon the door, preventing him from getting to his brother. "Caelan, I need keys!" Dean snapped at his friend urgently. "Caelan! Keys! Do you see any God damned keys there are not?!"

 **DW CH JW DW CH JW DW CH JW DW CH JW DW**

John's eyebrow's shot up in surprise at Marc's words. "Excuse me? You hated me?"

"Oh yes." Marc agreed, his smile widening, his expression contradicting the words he was saying. "I hated you for a lot of years John; blamed you for my Mary's death too."

John couldn't help the shocked gasp that escaped him at the mention of his late wife's name (or so he assumed it was the same Mary that Marc was talking about). "Really?" John said, quickly masking his shock by replacing it with his unreadable stoic expression, hoping to give away nothing of his inner-thoughts. "I didn't know you knew anyone by the name of Mary as well. Not sure what I had to do with _your_ Mary's death though." John added, deliberately trying to bait Marc into revealing more.

Marc chuckled dryly. "Oh yes, I definitely knew _Mary_ ; grew up with her in fact." Marc paused, eyeing John carefully before he shrugged his shoulders. "What the hell … I guess you deserve to know _everything_ since this is probably the last we'll see of each other." Although Marc still held his smile in place, his pale eyes flashed with intensity and anger, a secretive, knowing look within his eyes.

John felt a shiver run up and down his spine at the look in Marc's eyes, but be damned if he was going to let Marc see that! "What do you mean Marc?" John asked quietly, his body automatically tensing as if expecting an attack at any moment.

"Your Mary and my Mary are one and the same. I was adopted into the Campbell family – was in fact Samuel's adoptive brother – but because of the massive age difference between me and my adoptive parents, Samuel ended up raising me like he would have his own son."

Marc's features softened in remembrance. "I was eight-years old when Mary was born; and I loved her from the moment I laid eyes on her. I knew that the two of us were destined to be together; to get married and have kids of our own one day."

John swallowed hard, too shocked at Marc's connection to Mary to form any coherent thoughts at the moment until Marc's last words penetrated his numb mind. "Marry her?" John repeated stunned, incredulous. "Mary was your _niece_." John stressed, suddenly feeling ill and disgusted now.

"Technically yes … but we weren't really related by blood, so I knew that our love could develop into something more one day."

"Your _love_?!" John snapped, anger surging within him now, desperate to defend his beautiful wife's integrity and honour. "Mary _never_ would have married you. You were her _family_ and she never would have …"

John took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm his rising agitation. "Okay then, if what you're telling me is true," John tried to reason with the man. "Then why didn't Mary ever _mention_ you in all of the time that we dated and then got married? If Mary loved you, like you claim she did, then why didn't she tell me anything about you?"

Marc's expression suddenly darkened as he glared at John hatefully.

"It's because … she was _scared_ of you, wasn't she? That's why she never told me about you or why you were never around when we married and had kids. She was scared and ashamed of you."

"Shut up!" Marc hissed, his features twisting into outrage at John's outrageous suggestions. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about! I wasn't around because she was scared of me! When Samuel and Deanna died in 1973, I decided that I needed to be trained; to become better equipped in order to _protect_ Mary.

Samuel taught me the basics in how to defend myself, but I wanted to protect someone else, so I enlisted in the Army and I learned, not only how to _protect_ other people, but also how to extract sensitive information from the enemy."

"Torture," John frowned. "You're talking about torture, aren't you?"

Marc grinned; quickly regaining his composure as he proudly puffed his chest out. "Damn straight that's what I talking about! And I became the _best_ at being able to … extract the information … whether they were willing to give it to me or not."

Marc leaned forward, his elbow resting upon the middle of the table. "Those skills became essential when I was torturing you r son …"

 **JW CH JW CH JW CH JW CH JW CH JW CH JW CH**

Caelan blinked, Dean's urgent, commanding voice snapping him back to the present. Keys. Right … Where the hell would sick mother fuckers put keys to a box that could barely contain a child, let alone a fully grown Sammy?

Ah ... here! Right by the … stack of torture weapons that were lined up in a row upon the wall, like you would display fucking trophies! Of course that was where you would put the keys to your torture box … right next to the fucking torture weapons!

Caelan almost lost what was in his stomach when he noticed dried blood and flecks of – oh God, was that _skin_? – upon the weapons. But with a will power Caelan didn't know he possessed, he pushed those emotions back and snagged the keys from the hook.

"Found them," Caelan said, his voice rough, fill of horror and dread at what the youngest Winchester had faced at the hands of these _crazy_ sick fucks, tossing the keys at Dean, not surprised when Dean caught the keys one handed and immediately set to work on unlocking the door so that he could free the young man.

Caelan took several steadying breaths before he turned back toward the weapons once more. If seeing these made Caelan feel sick to his stomach and want to march into the next room and put a bullet through the skulls of those two Hunters who had participated in torturing Sammy … what would Dean's reaction to them be?

Caelan shuddered violently at that thought before he knew what he had to do. Spying a bag in the corner of the room, Caelan grabbed it, took each of the offending items off the wall and shoved them in the bag to be destroyed later on.

Blocking out the horror around him, Caelan methodically went through every monitor and every computer, throwing evidence of Sam Winchester ever having been here into the bag with the weapons, to be dealt with once Sammy was safely out of here and in their protective custody once more.

Being completely thorough, Caelan smashed all of the screens, computers and monitors in the room, knowing that the only real way of destroying all of the evidence that Sam had been here was to set fire to the warehouse and watch the whole thing go up in flames.

"How are we doing over there Dean?" Caelan inquired brusquely. "We gotta burn this place to the ground and be out of here ASAP!"

"Yeah, I know," Dean replied, a hint of exasperation within his tone even as he tried to keep his tone soft and soothing, trying to coax his brother out of the box. "You take care of … _them_ and let me get Sammy calmed down without the sound of glass breaking every five fucking seconds!"

Caelan met Dean's gaze, worried about the fury within his friend's voice before he realised that it was more frustration and hurt because he couldn't coax his brother out of there. What Dean needed was peace and quiet and for Caelan to disappear as well if he was going to have any chance of convincing Sam to come out of the box willingly.

Caelan could have felt hurt by Dean's desire for him to exit the room, but Caelan knew from experience that Sammy only ever trusted Dean … especially if he was sick or hurt.

"I'll be outside if you need me," Caelan told Dean with a nod of agreement as he grabbed the bag of torture weapons and images of Sam Winchester being tortured and exited the room, striding quickly outside to place the back in the back seat of the Impala while he went back inside and carried both Peter Stewart and Hank Adams outside and dumped them outside, close by the Impala, not knowing what to do with them now.

Normally in this type of situation; Caelan would call Caleb, Bobby or Pastor Jim to assist him in the covering up of their tracks. But with other _Hunters_ involved … and two of the oldest and well respected families in the hunting community … who knew how far this reached? Could Caelan really trust his friends anymore or were they all alone in this war that seemed to be with other Hunters?

 **TBC**


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Introducing new character, Caelan Hagan. Hope you enjoy. Here's the first of many chapters that begin to explain why the duo Hunters of father and son have targeted Sammy for all of these years. I really struggled with this chapter and the next few chapters because of the information content. Hope I explained it so all of you can understand it too!

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Isdugat** for your review. Glad I could surprise you. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER TWELEVE**

Sam awoke some time later immediately sensing that the comforting presence from before had left and desperately needing to pee. Of course that had been a mirage, a hallucination conjured up by his extremely agitated and terrified mind in order to help calm him down and keep him somewhat same.

Feeling slightly calmer now, his thoughts slowly organising into rational – well as rational as they could be being stuck in this God forsaken box! – thoughts once more. He immediately knew where he was and what had happened, still feeling claustrophobic and scared of this insanely pitch-black darkness, but at least he wasn't in full-blown panic mode and could offer just a little bit of dignity back to himself.

Not even sure if his eyes were open or not and to combat the steadily increasing feeling of being _squeezed_ in between the boxes confining walls, Sam decided to concentrate and focus on his _physical_ body pains, which kept him in the here and now and not drifting off in a terrified panic within his own mind.

Sam raised his right hand to the top of his head and slowly worked his way down. Head felt fine; the cut above his right eye had stopped bleeding long ago, but Sam could feel the definite swelling of his right eye. There was a large gash to the left side of his forehead … any closer to his temple and Sam knew that he would have been a dead man a long time ago!

Sam moved his head experimentally from side to side, relieved at the lack of pain from that simple action. Good, no broken bones, although possible concussion, but not much he could do about that now and a killer headache that wanted to crack his skull open, but otherwise Sam's head felt intact and fine.

Working his hand down, Sam felt the indentation of the brand that Sicko had placed upon him and felt his blood freeze as he recalled that particular punishment that seemed so long ago now.

Dislocated left shoulder – yep, don't even bother moving that! – and mangled left wrist (possibly broken) because of the handcuff, numerous bruises upon his chest, cracked or broken ribs – which made breathing a little difficult – burn marks from the Taser on both sides of his hips.

Ah fuck! That's right, fucked right knee, don't move it … Don't fucking move it!

Sam bit upon his lower lip hard, his body tensing with pain, tears within his eyes as he waited for the intense pain of moving his right leg had caused him to ease to a more bearable level.

Chaffed ankles on both feet caused by … handcuffs again. Sam couldn't check his back, but he _knew_ it would be a mess. Thankfully nothing seemed to be bleeding profusely so at least he wasn't going to bleed out in the near future … so that was something at least.

A persistent pain in his rear-end, becoming uncomfortable at first and then began to get more painful the longer Sam remained sitting in this awkward sitting position. Sam noticed that it was a lot more tender – fucking unbearable pain! – if he sat directly upon it, so Sam began to rock slowly, hoping to ease the pain somewhat, knowing _why_ he was so sore there, but not wanting to think about it as tears pricked within his eyes, his checks reddening in both shame and humiliation.

 **SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW**

John gripped his beer so tightly that he almost broke the bottle. "What did you just say?" he demanded, his voice low, deadly, his dark eyes flashing with a fury, a burning need to slam his bottle into this self-righteous prick's face, filling him; his worst fears realised at this son of a bitch's words, his free hand moving on instinct as he want to grab Marc's shirt in his hands and pull him closer toward John, but Marc quickly leaned back again, out of John's reach, a pleased smirk upon his lips at John's reaction.

"Oh, I think you heard me." Marc said coyly. "But I'm getting ahead of myself here, let me back-track a bit … don't worry, I'll tell you all about _that_ soon enough." He laughed softly before folding his hands together upon the table, a comfortable smile upon his features. "I had heard through the grape-vine while I was in the Army that Mary had settled down, had left the hunting life for good and I was … _pleased_ that Mary was out of danger. I foolishly thought that you could look after her until I had finished up my training and returned to claim what rightfully belonged to me."

John's teeth grinded together almost painfully, pissed off that this _crazy_ fuck thought that Mary _belonged_ to _anyone_ , let alone him!

"So when I returned eleven years later – 1984 – I was shocked … _devastated_ … to discover that Mary had _died_ and you had seemingly vanished off the face of the Earth with your two young sons. And right then … _I hated you_. It became my personal mission to track you down and make you suffer! I changed _everything_ about myself in order to track you down!" Marc laughed bitterly. "I even changed my _name_ in honour of my beautiful Mary. Marc Ley-Lamp is an anagram of Mary Campbell."

Marc paused to regather his thoughts and conceal his emotions once more. "When I eventually tracked you down in 1990, I had learned the truth about what had happened to my beautiful Mary. It hadn't been your fault at all.

Oh, I know that The Demon was ultimately the one who had murdered Mary, but it hadn't really been _his_ fault either. No, the one who was truly _responsible_ for Mary's death … he appeared to be human … but he wasn't human at all; only masquerading as one long enough to gain our trust and then … he would destroy us all. And I _vowed_ to make that _monster_ pay!"

Marc looked at John for a long heartbeat, seeing the simmering rage within his dark eyes, his body shaking with the effort it took for him to maintain self-control and not attack Marc like he so desperately wanted to do.

"I like you John," Marc admitted softly. "In fact … I'm being entirely honest … I even found _him_ growing on me, but …" Marc let out an explosive sigh. "Even though I'm about to cross something off my to-do list, it hasn't gone down the exact way that I envisioned or I planned it would; but at the end of the day and at long last … I shall have my revenge."

 **JW CH JW CH JW CH JW CH JW CH JW CH JW CH**

With a heavy sigh, Caelan decided to go with his gut instinct. In all honesty, Caelan had never trusted Peter or Hank as far as he could throw them, but he _did_ trust Caleb, Bobby and Pastor Jim. When every other Hunter had turned against him, when he was investigating his father's death, these three, along with John Winchester had stood beside him and supported him throughout his suicide mission.

Dialling a number he knew by heart, he waited for the slightly older – by two years – Hunter to answer. The two of them had gone on many hunts together and he had saved Caelan's bacon on more than one occasion, not to mention the numerous drinks they'd had together. If there was anyone else Caelan could trust within the hunting community – apart from the Winchesters – then this man would be it.

"Caleb," Caelan greeted his friend, his voice grim and serious. "How do you feel about getting into something that could be extremely dangerous, possibly put you on the hit list of some infamous Hunters and will most probably have every other Hunter out there lining up for your blood?"

Caelan paused, listening to his friend's reply before he let out an insufferable sigh. "No Caleb, this isn't about Dad. This is … I think this is big and the Winchesters – especially Sammy – are stuck right in the middle of it."

Silence from the other end.

"What do you say Caleb? Want to live on the edge with me and possibly go out in a flame of glory?" Caelan grinned at his friend's response. "Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say. Meet me and I will explain everything in person."

After giving Caleb his location, Caelan decided to get Peter's ridiculous Ferrari 360, parking it up next to the Impala – Dean would have a heart attack if he could see that piece of crap sitting next to his baby – after locking both Peter and Hank inside of that _stupid_ car and decided to wait outside for Caleb's arrival.

He knew that he had to get Peter and Hank out of here before Dean emerged with Sam otherwise Caelan feared he wouldn't be able to stop the oldest Winchester sibling from out-right killing them. And really, would it be such a shame if Dean _did_ get rid of these fucking scumbags who were masquerading as Hunters?

Caelan blew out his breath and shook his head regretfully. Yes, it would be bad. Caelan decided sadly. Unfortunately these guys were witnesses to Sam's abduction – they could validate Caelan and Dean's story. Not that they would do that willingly, but if interrogated by other well respected and admired Hunters, they wouldn't have a choice but to tell the truth – or they could be used as bargaining tools.

For now, these guys were useful … but the minute they no longer served their purpose, Caelan would have no problem in allowing Dean to end their miserable lives. Hell, he'd probably join in and _help_ Dean to end their lives!

After all, Sammy was _his_ brother too. And Caelan vowed to help Dean track down every mother fucker who had been involved in this and to hurt them … a lot. Because nobody messed with the Hagen or Winchester family and expected to get away with it, not while Caelan was around anyway!

 **CH JW CH JW CH JW CH JW CH JW CH JW CH**

Shivers of dread ran up and down John's spine, his body vibrating with rage and for one of the few times in his life, John was rendered speechless.

Marc met John's eyes; a flicker of remorse entered his eyes and then was gone as a forlorn sigh escaped him. "I tried Johnny; I really _did_ try to save him. I know that you won't believe me … but if the organisation that I'm … involved with found out about him … they would have killed him on the spot. So even though it doesn't look like it … _I_ kept him safe for all of these years. He was under my protection.

Of course, it didn't take them long to realise exactly _who_ he was but I convinced them to let me try and save him; and they trusted me to do that. I know that some of my methods might have seemed cruel, heartless … a form of torture even, especially since he was just a mere child when I started out on this mission to save a young boy's life.

But after years and years of drugging and … reconditioning … I finally made progress and had a break through. I even managed to convince him to leave his family behind so that he wouldn't end up hurting his family someday and so that other Hunters wouldn't come after both the boy and his family. Don' you see Johnny? I was trying to _help_ you, Dean and little Sammy … the Demon Spawn, _your_ Demon Spawn."

A low growl started in the back of John's throat, continuing to grow louder as John's head snapped up and penetrated Marc's gaze, his eyes filled with rage, fury, hatred, feeling more than a tad foolish and betrayed by this … _person_ that he had once called a friend. "I _trusted_ you Marc." John spat out bitterly. "I trusted you with not only my life; but my children's lives as well. How could you _do_ this to me?"

"I'm sorry Johnny, I really am. I wish things could have been different … and we did make one hell of a team hunting together but …" Marc shook his head sadly. "Once I got rid of Connor Hagen, getting you to trust me completely … it was like taking candy from a baby!

I mean, you practically _threw_ little Sammy at me each and every year … how could I _not_ take advantage of that?" Marc boasted, laughing gleefully. "It's like you were sending me a secret message saying that you _wanted_ me to save Sammy, recondition him to _our_ way of thinking … the human way and not The Demon's way."

Marc continued in triumph before his expression sobered. "Because you know what's in store for Sammy, don't you? You do know what The Demon has planned for him and children like him, don't you?" This psychotic asked, completely serious now. "That's why it's imperative to either turn these children to our way of thinking or to eliminate them. Because we're in a war right now Johnny and if we do _nothing_ about it now, before this kids become _dangerous_ and a force to be reckoned with, then we lose. Game over; everyone is screwed!"

Marc declared passionately, his pale blue eyes willing John to see things from _his_ point of view, to side with this crazy lunatic and allow him to … torture and punish innocent children's lives all because they were afraid of what these children would supposedly become someday.

John closed his eyes, taking a moment to process everything Marc had revealed to him. He hadn't known about Sammy or the other children who were apparently like him, but John was far from stupid. And he'd always assumed that there was a reason The Demon had visited them all of those years ago. And he'd by _lying_ if he didn't say that he thought that The Demon had been there for Sammy that night hadn't entered his mind on more than one occasion.

But he had never _blamed_ Sam for Mary's death. Whatever The Demon wanted or had … possibly done to his son … none of that mattered because Sammy was his son. He was just a baby … an innocent baby. He hadn't _chosen_ this life; he hadn't summoned The Demon for crying out loud … that had been completely out of his control … and out of the other children's control.

 _Anyone_ who thought that _innocent babies_ were to blame for The Demon visiting them and the consequences of someone dying or having their house burned down was a complete and utter moron and needed their heads examined for a psychological evaluation.

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Sam lowered his head on top of his knees, wrapping his right arm around the base of his legs, both as security and to help keep his right knee immobilized as he gently rocked back and forwards, trying to keep the stupid tears and fear at bay.

God, he was such a fucking loser! Why would his family ever want to save such a pathetic, weak person? He wasn't worth it. The best thing that they could do was to put him out of his fucking misery!

"Either they do it … or I'll do it myself!" Sam vowed to himself, knowing that this was one promise that he would be able to keep.

Trying one last time to reason with these _people_ , Sam raised his head and made a desperate plea to them, knowing that they could hear him and see him – what would be the fun in torturing someone if you couldn't _see_ it or _hear_ it? – praying that they had a little bit of humanity within them as he begged for Dean and Caelan's safety, begged for his cooperation if only they would let him out and go home; no more fighting.

No response. Just as he thought, these people were heartless!

Sam put his head back down on his knees in defeat until the door suddenly swung open and he was blinking in the blinding glare of lights, not sure if this was his salvation or the beginning of another round of torture.

Slowly, Sam's eyes began to adjust to the light and he looked upon a face he hadn't see in two years and a face he thought he would never see again. "D-Dean?" he stammered, not sure if what he was seeing was real or not; instinctively shrinking away from the out-stretched arm, not wanting to fall victim to his own mind's cruel tricks; not really believing that he _deserved_ to be free from this nightmare as he stared at this – possible – Dean out of wary and suspicious eyes.

 **SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

Dean's hands shook slightly – not in fear, but in anticipation – as he struggled to get the key in the lock and unlock this damn door so that he could get his brother out of this God damned box!

Finally, after what seemed like a life time, Dean managed to tear the padlock from the door, sliding back the heavy lock as he pulled open the door and almost burst into tears of relief when he saw his brother huddled in the corner of the box, blinking at him, disorientated.

He looked like hell, but at least he was alive. Any other injury they could deal with, he could patch Sammy up, but death … there was no way to bring his brother back from that!

"Sammy!" Dean gasped, automatically reaching out to help Sam from the box. Dean paused half-way through his action, taken completely by surprise when instead of Sam racing toward his out-stretched arm; he shrank away from Dean, cowering in the corner, watching Dean out of wary, suspicious eyes.

Slowly Dean pulled back his hand, shifting his body weight onto the heels of his feet, in a crouched position so that he could still see his brother's form from the open doorway. Irrationally Dean thought that if he took his eyes away from his brother for even a second, he would disappear.

Dean stared at Sam, dumbfounded and disheartened by Sam's violent rejection of him, a pang of hurt within his heart, causing his eyes to burn with unshed and unwanted tears.

After years of having Sammy trust him completely, without reservation or question, to now find that same little boy that he had raised, shying away from him and looking at him as if he expected Dean to _hurt_ him in some way, caused Dean to falter, shocked and devastated by his little brother's refusal to accept his big brother's help and to trust him as he would have when a young child.

"Oh Sammy," Dean moaned brokenly. "What have they done to you little man?"

 **TBC**


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Introducing new character, Caelan Hagan. Hope you enjoy. Here's the first of many chapters that begin to explain why the duo Hunters of father and son have targeted Sammy for all of these years. I really struggled with this chapter and the next few chapters because of the information content. Hope I explained it so all of you can understand it too!

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Kas3y** and **Mimmi85** for your reviews, they mean a lot. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

After everything Dean and Caelan had done and gone through to find Sam and now … what … Sam wanted nothing to with him … again? Was it really so _hard_ for Sam to show him a little fucking _gratitude_?!

Irritation instantly swelled within Dean; the feeling easier to deal with than the knowledge of not knowing what to do to help his little brother or if Sam would even _accept_ his help. This ungrateful little …

Dean blinked back his tears of hurt and betrayal as he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, instinctively knowing that getting angry with Sam right now was not going to help matters … in fact, it would most like push Sam further away.

Dean wasn't irritated with Sam, not really … he was irritated with himself, frustrated at his own indecisiveness and doubt, unsure on what his next move should be and how he could help Sammy. He didn't want to cause Sammy any more unnecessary pain, but he had to get Sam out of here.

"You're not real," Sammy muttered over and over, adamantly shaking his head in denial.

"Sammy, it _is_ me," Dean insisted, his tone having a sharp edge of desperation that Dean had never heard in his voice before. "I promise you little brother, I'm Dean; I'm real and I'm here to get you out, okay?"

Sam paused in his chanting to eye Dean carefully before he stubbornly shook his head. "You're not him!" Sam repeated, his voice rising slightly in panic. "You're not Dean! Go away and leave me alone!

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"So, let me get this straight," John began, his voice tightly controlled as he reopened his eyes. "After being adopted into the Campbell family, raised by Samuel, living with and growing up with Mary, you develop _feelings_

(John couldn't help but snap out bitingly, disgusted at the thought of this sick fuck ogling and drooling all over his late wife while they were growing up).

For your … niece … sister … and get it into your head that you will marry her one day. Upon discovering Samuel and Deanna's untimely death, you decide to leave Mary and join the Army in order to gain skills so you can better protect Mary … is that correct so far?"

Marc nodded enthusiastically, obviously not hearing John's sarcasm or pretending not to notice it. "Yes Johnny, that's right." He agreed eagerly, relaxing slightly, thinking that he had convinced John Winchester into his way of thinking.

John's half-smile was deadly, but Marc was too caught up in his own delusions of grandeur that he mistook John's smile as one of commiseration and empathy for Marc's obvious plight.

"Eleven years later you return to _reclaim_ Mary only to discover that she's dead and so you decide to hunt me down and make me pay for Mary's death … right?"

Another eager nod.

"After learning that The Demon was there for Sam that night, you decide to … what did you call it?" John tilted his head to the side, frowning in concentration. "Recondition, right? Drug and _recondition_ my son to _your_ way of thinking?"

"No! Not my way; the organisation's way." Marc corrected John, still too blind to see the danger that sat before him.

"Right. Sorry, my mistake," John's chuckle was dry, emotionless, empty, but Marc smiled in response to John's chuckle, his eyes widening in pleasure at the way that John seemed to be on his side now.

"In order to achieve your goal of … _reconditioning_ Sam … you decide to get Connor Hagen out of the way so you can gain my trust, get close to me in order to start your _reconditioning_ and you're hell-bent on either … _saving_ these other children or getting rid of them … does that about sum it up?" John inquired, his tone condescending now.

Marc frowned slightly. "Not quite. I didn't get rid of Connor to get close to you – although that was a pleasant surprise – no; I had to … take care of Connor because he was basically at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"What do you mean?" John eventually got out, determined to get to the bottom of Connor Hagen's death – not only because he was John's best friend, but also so Caelan could have some piece of mind about how his father had died – before he completely lost control and pounded upon this piece of shit scum-bag who had thought he could come into John's life, gain his trust, abuse and _torture_ his son and not reap the consequences of his actions? Did this … simpleton really think that John was going to let him get away with everything he had done?!

Marc's frown deepened, a disappointed look within his eyes. "It was a … trial, to see how well … to see if the drugs would have the desired effect upon Sam that we hoped. My … _associate_ … couldn't … he was _weak_ and unfortunately Connor happened to see my associate and little Sammy in an … uncompromising position."

Marc waved his hands about dismissively, slightly irritated by the whole unfortunate episode. "I couldn't have Connor ruining our plans to help save your son, now could I? So, I organised for Stewart and Adams to take a drugged and unconscious Connor out to the werewolf's hunting grounds and leave him there.

Technically the werewolf killed Connor, not me!" Marc grinned; pleased by his devious nature and heinous plan in order to keep his own hands clean from the murder of Connor Hagen.

 **JW DW SW JW DW SW JW DW SW JW DW SW JW**

"Sammy, come on dude," Dean sighed in frustration. "It _is_ me."

"You're not real … you're not real … you're not real … " Sam continued to chant from before, staring at Dean, his eyes wide, brimming with tears, too freaked out to listen to anything Dean had to tell him right now.

"Damn it!" Dean swore under his breath; now what the hell did he do? Dean tried to calm his racing thoughts and pushed all negative emotions to the back of his mind as he peered at his little brother critically.

Although he couldn't really see the complete injuries that his brother had sustained – because of the way Sam was folded in on himself – he did notice how Sam was favouring his left shoulder and his right knee … so, they were either badly sprained, broken or dislocated …

Great! That was just fucking terrific! Getting his tall younger brother out of this damn box forcibly, without causing any more damage to Sam's already bruised and battered body was going to be impossible. Sam had to come out of there willingly and somehow Dean had to coax him out of there. But how the hell did he _do_ that?"

"Sammy … c'mon buddy, let me get you out of there," Dean pleaded, not above showing _any_ emotion when his little brother's safety and well-being were concerned. "Sammy, I just want to take you home dude, okay?"

"H-home?" Sam repeated, sounding like a vulnerable six-year old. "You want to take me home?" Sam's bottom lip trembled violently and Dean could see that Sam _wanted_ to believe him, he _wanted_ to get out of this box and go home but something was holding him back.

"Yes Sammy," Dean almost laughed in relief at getting some other reaction out of his brother instead of fear and mistrust. "I want to take you home. Come on little brother," Dean reached for Sammy yet again and was rewarded by Sam reaching out toward Dean before the sound of glass shattered reverberated all around them.

Instantly Sam's eyes closed down as he scooted impossibly further away from Dean, staring at Dean darkly, accusingly, retreating further into himself.

Fuck! Damn it!

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John felt his blood run cold at Marc's words, remembering how John and Dean had been conveniently called away to assist in a hunt that Marc himself was involved in, and John had asked Connor to look in on Sammy – who was only ten-years old at the time – and sit with him until John and Dean returned in the morning.

"You … Sammy was only ten-years old!" John said, horror tinging his tone. "He was just a _little boy_ and Connor … Connor was a great man and you just … _killed_ him?!" John's voice rose incredulously.

"No, _I_ didn't kill him … the werewolf did." Marc clarified, grinning broadly. "And yes, Sam may have only been a _little boy_ , but he was _dangerous_ John; and the reconditioning had to start as soon as possible in order to try and save him."

"You called Dean and me away on that hunt deliberately, didn't you? You wanted Sammy to be all alone so your _associate_ could what … _drug and torture my ten-year old son_?!"

"No." Marc said, his brow puckering with puzzlement at John's words and the scathing tone within the man's voice. "I told you, it was only supposed to be a trial of the drugs. My associate –"

"Yeah, lost control." John scoffed sarcastically. "I heard you the first time. Tell me Marc … this organisation that you _work_ for … how many _kids_ have you reconditioned or killed in the name of it? How many _innocent_ lives have to be taken in pursuit of this mad crusade that you're on?"

"It's not mad!" Marc exclaimed, his tone beginning to rise in indignation. "And those _kids_ were far from innocent!" he scoffed. "I'm not the only operative out there trying to _change_ these kids destinies … trying to _save_ them from the dark path that they are on."

Marc paused, eyeing John thoughtfully. "You know, little Sammy _is_ one of my success stories. It took a while, but eventually I had him believing anything that I wanted him to believe. He was saved; saved from his destiny and dark path, out of harm's way, no longer a threat to you or Dean.

I was content to let him live his life as long as he never contacted any of you ever again; as long as he abided by the terms of our "agreement" then I was content to leave him alone. I didn't do this John. What's happening now … it isn't my doing. Sammy hasn't … I haven't had to recondition him in two years now." Marc announced proudly.

"How many kids Marc?" John demanded through gritted teeth. "How many kids have you done this to? How many kids have you fucking _brainwashed_ like you did with my son?"

Marc tilted his head to one side, considering John's question. "It's hard to say really; anywhere from half-a dozen to a dozen, maybe. Of course, most of them were failures and had to be eliminated because they couldn't be saved … I think that's because I started too _late_ with them, they were in their teens.

Sammy was ten and Max Miller was … well, let's just say I had some help in that department when I recruited his father to take over the reconditioning when I was pulled away on … other projects. And then, of course, there is my _associate_ , ever since he was five-years old.

Of course, he doesn't know who he truly is but … he obeys my every command without question and I have full faith that he would _never_ turn on me. He's too dependent upon my commands to do without me now.

Of course, I hadn't counted on him being so completely and utterly … obsessed with little Sammy. I apologize for that. If I had known that he'd do something like this … I would have stopped it long ago."

John's eyes narrowed as he peered into Marc's soulless pale blue eyes. "Except you _did_ know, didn't you? He's only doing what you _programmed_ him to do, isn't he?"

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Dean instantly regretted snapping at Caelan like that, but he had been so _close_ to having convinced Sam to exit the box and now … because of Caelan, Sam had retreated back into the box, seemingly worse than before.

Dean knew that Caelan hadn't meant to scare Sam, that he was just following procedure to get rid of any evidence that might lead police or any other government agency's turning their investigation onto any of them. The last thing any of them needed or wanted was to have the police trying to track them down, to question them about things that they couldn't provide answers for that the police would believe. They couldn't afford to have to evade the police as well as trying to avoid other Hunters who may be involved in Sam's abduction and torture session.

Dean could tell by the look in Caelan's eyes that he hadn't taken offence to Dean's comment and for that, Dean was grateful. He'd insulted his best friend more than enough for one day.

Once Caelan was gone, Dean turned his attention back toward his brother and almost immediately Dean knew that something was off about Sam's breathing (fast and shallow, gasping as if he couldn't get enough air).

Shit! Fuck!

"Sammy, hey buddy, c'mon dude, I need you to look at me," Dean told his bordering on a panic-attack little brother.

Sam violently shook his head, his eyes widening in fear, large tears gathering within his hazel eyes, his rocking beginning to increase in tempo the more agitated he got.

"Sammy! Look at me!" Dean demanded sternly, his anxiety level kicking up another notch at his kid brother's distressed moans of terror in between his panicked gasps for air. "Sammy please," Dean whispered, horrified when large tears began to roll down Sam's checks, his wide eyes begging – _pleading_ – for someone to help him.

"I – I – I wa-want D-D-D-Dee … pl-pl-please hel-help. D-D-Dee … ple-please … h-hel-help … "

Hearing his strong, independent baby brother use such an anguished, frightened tone, reminding him of when they had been small children and hearing Sam call him by his child-hood nick-name; awoke something within Dean that had been lying dormant since Sam had gained his independent streak at the age of thirteen, no longer needing Dean as much as he had before, wanting to try and do things for himself, no longer needing a mother-hen older brother to guide him through the troubled patches in his life as Sam tried to deal with his problems on his own.

Dean's "mother" instincts kicked in and he knew what he had to do to help his brother. He could have kicked himself for not seeing it before now.

Sammy wasn't trying to be obstinate, stubborn or difficult; this poor kid was freaking out, scared and panicked. Sam was on the verge of an extreme panic-attack, his traumatized mind finally having enough as it reverted back to what had kept Sam safe when he was a child … panic-attacks.

Yeah, panic-attacks weren't good, but every time Sammy had suffered from a panic-attack in the past, Dean had been there to help him through it and to make Sam feel safe, loved and secure once more. So, Sammy's mind reasoned that if he suffered a panic-attack, Dean would automatically be there to save him. And Sammy's mind was right; because Dean was here and Dean was going to save him!

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"Whatever do you mean?" Marc asked innocently. "You don't honestly think that I would … _experiment_ on my own _son_ , do you?" Marc smirked, unable to hold back his excitement and pleasure any longer. "It's perfect, don't you think Johnny? Nothing to directly tie me to either Connor's or little Sammy's deaths; being able to exact my revenge for Mary's untimely death, without actually getting my hands dirty … I'll tell you something Johnny. Even if you _do_ get little Sammy back … after what he's been through today … he will have completely lost his fucking mind!"

"You fucking bastard!" John's expression darkened, instinctively rising to his feet as he reached into his inner-jacket pocket to blow this sick son of a bitch away for good!

"Easy Johnny," Marc warned in a soft, controlled voice. "If you want to see your little _Sammy_ again … you'll sit your ass back down and hand me the guy you were just reaching for."

John hesitated, unsure as to what to do now, realising that Marc had him over a barrel. He had _his_ son somewhere. If John killed him now … they might never be able to locate him and that was something John couldn't do. He couldn't gamble with his son's life like that.

Hating himself for his _stupid_ fatherly instincts, John sat back down and reluctantly handed his gun to Marc underneath the table.

"Good choice," Marc grinned triumphantly, thinking he had the upper hand when all along John was _deliberately_ stalling Marc, hoping to give his sons the time they needed to locate Sammy before John could deal with this twisted sick mother fucker who had been foolish enough to turn up here alone.

Not that either Stewart or Adams would have provided John with too much trouble – they were good, but John was better! – but it would have been harder to explain away three dead bodies instead of just the one.

And with Marc Ley-Lamp's "confession" having been recorded on John's digital voice recorder – a useful piece of equipment when talking to witnesses about a "case" – no one would _blame_ John for what he was about to do to this man. More importantly, because of the proof he now possessed, no Hunter would retaliate or come after him because of Marc's death.

Marc thought he had won; but John had out-played the player, even if Marc didn't know it yet.

 **TBC**


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Introducing new character, Caelan Hagan. Hope you enjoy. Here's the first of many chapters that begin to explain why the duo Hunters of father and son have targeted Sammy for all of these years. I really struggled with this chapter and the next few chapters because of the information content. Hope I explained it so all of you can understand it too!

 **Special Note:** Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

Slowly Dean inched closer to his trembling, traumatized younger brother who was on the verge of having one hell of a panic-attack, talking to Sam in a low, calm, soothing voice. It didn't matter what Dean said as long as his voice and tone reached his brother before dealing with a full-blown panic-attack.

Touch, Dean recalled, had helped to anchor Sammy in the past when he was in the middle of a massive panic-attack; so Dean reached forward and placed a hand upon Sam's left knee, disregarding Sam's automatic flinch at Dean's touch.

"Easy little brother … it's just me, Dean … c'mon little man, breathe for me, nice and slow … that's it, deep breaths Sammy, in through the nose and out through the mouth … good man, that's it baby brother, you're doing great."

Several minutes later, Dean observed that Sam's breathing had basically returned back to normal. Great; thank goodness, crisis averted for the time being. Now, for the tricky part … trying to convince his brother to come out of there!

Slowly Dean began to spell out Sam's name with his finger-tip upon Sam's left knee – something Dean recalled doing when Sam had suffered the worst periods of his panic-attacks and his obsessive clinginess. Normally he would trace the names upon the back of Sam's hand, but with how his brother was reacting to Dean's mere presence … the knee was the closest contact that Dean could get to at the moment – smiling softly when he noticed his brother's eyes move down to gaze at Dean's finger which was tracing Sam's name upon his knee.

Finally! Now, we were getting somewhere!

After Dean had spelled out Sam's full name – including his middle and last – Dean started to spell out his own name, still talking to his brother gently and calmly; patiently waiting for Sam before he made the next move (even though Dean's instinct was to pull Sam out of there as quickly as possible!).

But, Dean knew if he did that, then Sam would definitely have one helluva massive meltdown! It had been bad enough dealing with a ten-year old panic-stricken brother; lord knows how he'd cope with a fully grown, fully freaked out, taller than him, little brother! No, Dean had to take this nice and slow. It would be better for the both of them in the long run.

Finishing off his own name, Dean proceeded to spell out their Dad's name, Sam's body tremors beginning to ease, unconsciously moving closer toward Dean, his eyes blinking rapidly as he watched Dean spell out their father's name, quickly followed by their mother's name.

"How you doing Sammy?" Dean asked quietly, finishing off their mother's first name and moving onto her last name. "You think you're almost ready to come out of there, little man? Cause … as much as I'd love to, I don't think I can come in there after you. No room left for me when your gigantic butt is in there!"

Dean chuckled dryly as he finished spelling out their mother's name, seeing a deep shudder run through the length of Sam's body as his previously clouded, distrustful and suspicious eyes cleared and Dean could see shock and recognition enter Sam's hazel eyes.

Sam blinked at him, a slight frown of confusion forming upon his brow. "Dean? Wh-what are you doing here? Where the hell am I?"

"It's okay Sammy," Dean replied, tears of relief in his eyes. "I'll explain everything to you, I promise … but first, let's get you out of here, okay?"

Sam nodded, automatically reaching out his right hand toward his brother, his gaze sweeping around his surroundings; an instinct ingrained in him and taught to him by his Dad at an early age (Always be aware of your surroundings boys; look for hidden threats or traps in the darkness; be _aware_ , be _alert_ , be _safe_ ; any detail, no matter how small could be the difference between you surviving or you winding up dead).

Sam's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening in fear. "D-Dean?" he stammered, his bottom lip quivering violently as he fought to control the panic that wanted to overwhelm and consume him. "I – I don't want to be in here. Ple-please get me out of this _box_!" he whispered, large tears gathering within his hazel eyes. "Please D-Dee … please …"

 **DW SW JW DW SW JW DW SW JW DW SW JW DW**

"So, what happens now?" John asked, his stoic expression once more in place. "Are you going to kill me now?"

Marc shrugged his shoulders, looking almost bored. "Sorry Johnny, but I did _warn_ you that this would be the last that we would see of each other. I _know_ you overheard me on the phone call I had with my son earlier. I just thought I would do the honourable thing and tell you _why_ before you die."

"Wow, I'm flattered Marc," John spat out sarcastically. "That you would dirty your hands and kill me yourself."

"Yes … well, technically _I_ won't have been the one to kill you; a semi-truck will do the deed for me." Marc shook his head and mock-tutted at John. "How many times have I told you not to drink and drive Johnny? It's dangerous for you to fall asleep at the wheel and steer into on-coming traffic … especially a truck!"

Marc clapped his hands gleefully, laughing at his own poor excuse of humour. "Sorry Johnny; but I can't have you in the way of ruining my revenge. I know you won't let me just kill your son … but with you out of the way … it's going to be much _easier_ for me to start the reconditioning once again. After all, little Sammy did break the "agreement" and contact Caelan, asking for help. No contact means _no_ contact. Guess I'm just going to have to _teach_ him that lesson all over again!"

"You son of a bitch!" John hissed, lunging toward Marc in furious out-rage. "You won't ever lay a hand on my boy ever again! Even _if_ you manage to _kill_ me – and that's a big "if" Marc – _Dean_ will never allow you to get close to Sammy ever again!" John declared confidently.

"Maybe," Marc said, unperturbed by John's statement. "But I think I will be able to get around Dean's defences. After all, your boys _do_ have one weakness. All I have to do is threaten Sammy and Dean will do whatever I say … much like how we finally managed to convince little Sammy to leave you all behind."

"You threatened to hurt Dean," John said, everything about that time beginning to make perfect sense now; and why Sam hadn't answered any of their calls or tried to contact any of them in the two years he had been attending Stanford.

John had assumed it was because his youngest son was selfish and wanted out of the hunting life so completely that he wanted nothing to do with any of it – including being around his family – only to discover that this SOB had basically black-mailed Sammy into leaving and staying away by threatening his older brother.

"You are _dead_ Marc!" John told the man, his tone low, dangerous and fill of promise. "You hear me? I am going to fucking _kill_ you, you son of a bitch!"

"Yeah, that I'd like to see, considering you will be just another causality in my own personal war within the next half an hour." Marc smiled smugly, gesturing for John to get to his feet. "Come on Johnny, it's time for you to face your destiny … unless, of course, you would rather little Sammy take your place … or how bout Dean instead?"

John swore profusely as he slowly got to his feet, knowing that he could do nothing until he was sure of his youngest son's safety. _Come on Dean_ , John silently willed his oldest to hurry up, knowing that time was beginning to run out for all of them.

 **JW DW SW JW DW SW JW DW SW JW DW SW JW**

Quickly, Dean placed his hands upon his brother's face and gently guided Sam's eyes to meet his own eyes. "Look at me Sammy," Dean commanded in a soft voice. "I'm getting you out of here, okay?"

"Okay," Sam gasped, his eyes frantically searching the boxes walls, his breathing beginning to quicken in alarm.

"Sammy! Look at me!" Dean repeated a little louder, gently tapping his brother's check to get his attention.

Sam's eyes moved to Dean briefly before they once again focused upon the walls.

"No, Sammy!" Dean couldn't help but moan, noticing by his brother's agitation that Sam would be totally freaking out in a matter of minutes! "Come on dude, we've already been through this," Dean sighed in exasperation as he gently inched forward and placed his forehead against Sam's, hoping to block out Sam's line of sight so that he could focus on Dean once more. "Sammy, dude, I need you to _look at me_."

Instinctively, Sam tried to pull away from Dean's close proximity but Dean's hold about Sam's head, held Sam in place. "Dean … I'm … I'm … _scared_ ," Sam reluctantly admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, his hazel eyes holding a vulnerability that Dean hadn't seen since his brother had been very small (not long after Sam's tenth birthday, if Dean recalled correctly, after discovering that Caelan's Dad had been killed in a hunt).

"I know Sammy; I know you are," Dean said, gently wiping the stray tears from his brother's checks. "But I'm here now Sammy. Nothing bad is going to happen to you while I'm around, okay?"

Sam swallowed hard, his body tensing, looking far from convinced at Dean's words.

Not that Dean could blame him! After all, look what had been done to him on Dean's watch – not just now, but years ago – when his brother had been hurting and in pain while Dean _allowed_ those fuck-heads to …

"Sammy, I know I've failed you, okay? And I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry that I didn't put it all together until now. But I'm here now little brother, and if you let me … if you still _trust_ me … then, I need you to look at me, okay buddy?"

"Of _course_ I trust you Dean," Sam frowned at his brother's words, his eyes coming to rest upon Dean's. "I always have _trusted_ you and I always will!" he declared passionately.

Dean swallowed the large lump of emotion within his throat, squeezing the back of his brother's neck in both a reassuring gesture and conveying his gratitude at his brother's words. "Okay then Sam … what do you say we get you out of this God damned box and then you can help me _burn_ this fucking place down to the ground?" Dean couldn't help but grin at Sam's slow, wide smile of acceptance to that plan.

 **DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW**

Ten minutes after Caelan had placed the call to Caleb for assistance; fuck-head number one and fuck-head number two – or better known as Peter Stewart and Hank Adams – regained consciousness and glared at Caelan hatefully.

"You better untie me and let me out of here," Peter tried to sound threatening and intimidating, but because of his broken nose, his voice came out sounding nasally and more sick sounding than threatening.

"Or what?" Caelan couldn't help but taunt, an amused smirk upon his face, his tone almost condescending. "Are the two of you gonna kick my butt?" Caelan snorted, clearly amused by that prospect. "Please! You guys are … _infants_ compared to what I'm used to facing. Sorry to tell you this Stewart, but _you_ , your father and your wealth … you're not half as scary as you think you are."

Peter glowered at Caelan darkly. 'My father will have you skinned alive for doing this to me!" he declared in a strong, confident voice.

Caelan tried to take a moment to calm himself and not let Peter Stewart's words get under his skin; but where the hell did this _prick_ get off acting all high and mighty like he was the innocent one here, and hadn't just been caught red-handed involved in kidnapping and torturing a fellow Hunter?!

Before Caelan was even consciously aware of his actions, he'd planted both hands upon either side of the rear-right window of Stewart's beloved Ferrari 360, towering over Peter in a threatening pose, his brown eyes flashing with rage, hiding his smile of satisfaction when Peter gulped nervously and backed away from Caelan's intimidating form.

"I have had enough of your crappy threats Stewart!" Caelan snarled, his voice low, deep, deadly. "You and your … _shadow_ here are in some serious fucking _shit_ right now. You do know what happens to people who go after other Hunters for no reason, right?"

Peter swallowed back his obvious fright before he calmly smiled at Caelan, his cocky, self-assured attitude once more in place, staring down at Caelan as if he was nothing more than an ant to be squashed. "I honestly don't think the other Hunters will have a problem with this." Peter said confidently, arrogantly, grinning widely at Caelan's obvious confusion. " _Technically_ , Sam Winchester is no longer a Hunter. Everyone knows that he got out of the hunting life two years ago. So, basically _Sammy_ Winchester is fair game!"

Caelan slammed his hands against the car door hard enough to shake it as both Peter and Hank looked at him in surprise. "You don't get to call him that Stewart!" Caelan growled low in his throat. "After what I saw … not to mention the tapes and pictures of you sadistic _fucks_ in various positions _torturing_ an obviously secure and _unwilling_ Sam Winchester … _my brother_ … do you honestly think you will get away with that?"

Caelan paused. "You think you only have to worry about me and Dean? You've _heard_ the stories about John Winchester's infamous temper, right? What the hell do you think he's going to do to you two _fuck-heads_ who had the _audacity_ to not only kidnap his son, but to participate in his _youngest son's torture_?" Caelan chuckled dryly when he saw both Hunters faces pale drastically at Caelan's words. Finally these fuck-heads knew the true score of their crimes and they were flat-out terrified!

 **CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH**

Sam sat upon one of the executive's chair, his teeth chattering slightly, his brother's shirt tied around his waist, offering Sam some sort of dignity while Dean hunted for either Sam's clothes or something to wrap his naked brother in.

Sam couldn't help but blush at the thought that Dean had seen him _naked_. But, like Dean had pointed out to him earlier; it wasn't as if Dean hadn't seen it all before … after all, he'd been the one to change his brother's diapers.

Still, this was a bit different to when he had been a toddler and needing his big brother's help to change, bath and dress him. Sam was a full grown adult now … and this was something that Sam _never_ wanted Dean to see … To witness Sam after one of his "punishment" sessions had ended.

But was this even considered a "punishment" session when it had only lasted barely twenty-four hours – considering the other sessions lasted for at _least_ two weeks and a minimum of five days to recover before he was allowed to return home to his father and brother … and the _date_ was _wrong_. This was only supposed to happen on the anniversary of his mother's death … not on _his birthday_ ; _never_ on his birthday … except for that one time when he'd turned eighteen, and if Sicko was to believed, then apparently it had happened on his tenth birthday as well.

Oh God, was this some kind of new trend? Once a year was bad enough, Sam honestly didn't think he could cope if it was going to happen twice a year!

"If that's how it's gonna be, then I'll just blow my fucking brains out right now!" Sam muttered to himself.

"What did you just _say_?" Dean demanded, appalled and shocked as he whirled around to face his brother, a murderous expression within his green eyes.

Sam blinked at Dean, bewildered by his brother's violent reaction, having no clue as to what had set his older brother off this time.

Dean retraced his steps back to his brother, his search forgotten as his green eyes darkened with worry, hoping that he had misheard his little brother's words because there was _no way_ that he was letting Sam _ever_ do that. Never going to happen! Not on his watch!

"Did I just hear you say you were going to blow your brains out?"

Sam gaped at Dean, flabbergasted. How had Dean _known_ that? Was he some kind of mind-reader? "I didn't _say_ that. I only _thought_ it." Sam defended himself weakly.

Dean scoffed loudly as he rolled his eyes. "Sorry little brother, you definitely _said_ it. And even if you didn't … why the hell would you _think_ something like that anyway?"

"No. No, I don't _want_ to blow my brains out." Sam denied quickly. "I was just _thinking_ that this whole thing was wrong. Wrong date; wrong duration; wrong _everything_! And I know I wouldn't cope if it became a … regular occurrence, twice a year instead of once, so …" Sam shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "The easiest and quickest solution would be to blow my brains out."

Sam saw his brother's jaw clenching; a sure sign that Dean's anger was about to explode. Sam grabbed his brother's arm, Dean looking at him in surprise as Sam desperately tried to explain _why_ he would even think about doing such a … horrible thing to himself.

"Listen to me Dean," Sam began sternly, but seriously. "I _can't_ go through _this_ again. I can't …" Sam swallowed hard, trying to convey his words into a way that Dean would understand. "I nearly lost my mind man; and I'm barely holding it together as it is." Sam half-sobbed, half-laughed. "I was on the brink of catching a one-way ticket to crazy town!"

"Sammy –"

"No Dean … I only barely managed to pull myself back from the brink." Sam paused, blinking back the moisture from his eyes. "I would rather _die_ than be a patient in a mental hospital, hallucinations and drooling and … fuck knows what else dude!

But that ain't me Dean! I don't want to be locked up in some nut house … _lost_ within my own mind." Sam's gaze slid over to the "box" and Dean could see the terror reflected within his large hazel eyes.

"Dean, I can't go back in there," he whispered, pleading with Dean to understand. "It will _kill_ me if I have to ever go back in there again!"

 **TBC**


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Introducing new character, Caelan Hagan. Hope you enjoy.

 **Special Note:** Special thanks to **Mimmi85** and **Kas3y** for your kind words of encouragement. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

Peter Stewart exchanged a frantic look with Hank Adams before he turned wide, pleading eyes – nope, nowhere _near_ the power that Sam's perfected puppy-eyes had over him! – upon Caelan once more. "Look, okay, you're right," Peter admitted, a desperate, humbled tone to the Hunter's voice that Caelan had never heard before.

"Hank and I … I'm not going to lie, we … did some shady crap, okay? But we weren't the ones who kidnapped the kid; or fucked him up like that. When Hank I were called in … to offer assistance … Sam … he was already in bad shape. We'd only been there an _hour_ before you guys turned up."

Peter's tone turned pleading, almost _begging_. "I know we shouldn't have … participated in that but we aren't the master-minds behind this Hagen. We were just called in at the last minute, I swear!"

Caelan's eyes narrowed at Peter's words. If what he said was true then … these guys were nothing but _pawns_ in a much larger game that Caelan had no clue _who_ was involved with this particular game. It could be anyone ... with no idea of how _many_ more people were involved or what the fuck this was all about!

Caelan took a deep breath and let it out slowly, determined not to show the sudden uneasiness that had settled within the pit of his stomach because of this whole fucked up situation especially to these two fuck-heads before him!

Caelan shook his head as he realised that these two sorry sons of bitches were _meant_ to be caught; they were meant to take the blame for this while the true instigators of this very real and dangerous game managed to get away without any repercussions at all.

Damn, these guys were good!

Stewart and Adams had obviously been set up in order to take the blame for Sam's abduction and torture … but why? Why would they go after two of the most prominent families within the hunting community? Unless … that was _exactly_ what they had intended to do; to get rid of the two wealthiest, well-known, respected and admired families within the hunting circle.

If Caelan wanted to take down the hunting community, that's where he'd start. Take out the families who had generations of Hunters – by sullying the very names that made other Hunters respect and admire them – behind them; all of that experience, knowledge and … tradition, not to mention the Hunters unspoken code of conduct … would be gone; leaving room for something or someone else to take its place.

Holy crap! What in the hell had Sammy Winchester gotten them all involved in?!

 **CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH**

Dean's expression softened at his younger brother's agitated state, squeezing the back of Sam's neck in a comforting, reassuring gesture. "Listen to me little brother," Dean told Sam in a firm, confident voice. "You will _never_ be put in that _contraption_ ever again … I will kill any bastard who tries to do that to you, okay kid?"

Sam nodded, looking far from convinced at Dean's words. And really, Dean couldn't blame the kid for not believing him. How many times had his brother been in this predicament and Dean been oblivious to Sam's traumatized state of mind?

"Sammy, I swear to you, right now, on Mum's … grave … that those bastards will _never_ get their hands on you again!"

Sam took a moment to search Dean's eyes, looking for signs of deception or deceit before he nodded. "Okay Dean," he said softly, his tone suggesting that he believed his big brother's words completely and Dean felt a surge of relief fill him.

Thank God his little brother hadn't lost all faith in and belief in him. And Dean knew that he would make good on his promise. If any bastard – and Dean didn't care how far up the Hunter's chain they were; how respected or admired or even if he _knew_ them; if they – dared to come after Sammy again, they would face the full wrath and protectiveness of Dean Winchester. No one _touched_ Sammy and got away with it!

Dean frowned as some of Sam's words began to filter through to his mind. "What do you mean it's all wrong Sammy?" he gently prodded his not quite catatonic younger brother.

Sam blinked at Dean sluggishly and Dean wasn't sure if Sam could even _hear_ or understand what he was saying anymore as Sam's eyes slowly focused upon Deans, blinking rapidly while he processed Dean's question.

If Dean didn't know any better, he'd swear that Sam was high as a kite right now, but Dean _did_ know better and Dean had to assume that it was shock settling in (unless those bastards had drugged him before Dean and Caelan arrived!); or blood loss (cause the kid could be bleeding internally for all Dean knew as he hadn't had a chance to completely assess his younger brother's wounds yet, too pre-occupied with getting Sam out of that damn box and then keeping him calm so that he didn't reach super, extreme, hyper panic mode!) or he could have a concussion or it could be something as simple as exhaustion. Although knowing Sammy and knowing that he never did anything by half-measures, it wouldn't be _simple_ ; and knowing their luck Sammy could possibly be suffering from a combination of shock, blood-loos, concussion _and_ exhaustion.

Right. Questions later. First thing was first, he had to get Sammy out of here and get him some medical attention now!

 **DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW**

Now they were fighting a secret war with an unknown enemy with unknown objectives and who obviously had no trouble in playing _dirty_ to get what they wanted. And with not knowing exactly what their intentions were, Caelan knew that they needed to keep things as they were until they found out what this unknown enemy's true objective was. And in order to do that, that would mean … they would need to keep the _structure_ of the hunting community as stable and intact for as long as possible until they could figure out what the hell was going on.

Caelan's eyes grew round as a sudden horrible, _sickening_ thought occurred to him. To keep things as they were – stable, intact and whole – that would mean keeping the Stewart and Adams families firmly fixed upon the pedestal within the structure of the hunting community. And in order to do that … they would have to destroy all evidence of Peter Stewart and Hank Adams of ever being involved in the torture of Sam Winchester.

Fuck!

Dean Winchester was going to be _pissed_ when he learned that these _bastards_ might actually get away with what they had done to Sammy.

 **CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH**

"Okay Sammy, I have no idea where your clothes are, but I did happen to find a couple of blankets in the top cupboard over there. It will have to do until we get you out of here, okay?" Dean forced a reassuring smile upon his lips as he wrapped one blanket around his brother's waist and the other around his shoulders, noticing that Sam's shivering had become worse since he had gone in search of something to drape over his _naked_ traumatized little brother. "Okay dude, think you can stand?"

Sam looked at Dean, _perplexed_ , confused about _what_ he was expected to do. Hadn't Dean asked him a question before? Something about why it was all wrong ….

"It's the _wrong date_ ," Sam whispered, tears immediately jumping into his large hazel eyes. "I fucked up Dean … wasn't expecting it … not – not today! And … it's not _long enough_." Sam's eyes clouded over with horror, shuddering with revulsion, lost in memories only he could see for a few terrifying moments (especially for Dean!) before Sam's eyes cleared and he refocused upon Dean once more.

"Supposed to last for … I don't know … maybe a couple of weeks?" Sam shrugged helplessly. "Hard to keep track of time when you're in _there_!" he told his brother, a disturbed, haunted tone entering his voice as he stared morbidly at that "box" in the middle of the room. "Wasn't expecting it Dean," Sam murmured, almost as if in apology. "Haven't had to …" Sam shook his head and swallowed hard, frustration beginning to flare up within his hazel eyes now.

"We had an _agreement_. We had an _agreement_ Dean! If I left … if I didn't contact you … they – _he_ – was supposed to leave me alone. We had an _agreement_ Dean!" Sam insisted, desperately pleading with Dean to believe him.

"Sammy, it's okay," Dean told his distraught little brother; squeezing the back of Sam's neck in a calming, soothing manner. "I believe you little brother. I believe you, okay?" Dean crouched down so that he could look Sam in the eyes, offering his brother an encouraging smile. "I'm sorry little bro, I shouldn't be … pushing you so soon … but you're okay now; you're safe. You're safe Sammy, I promise."

"Dean?!" Sam cried out suddenly, grabbing hold of his brother's shirt in both desperation and dismay; almost causing Dean to lose his footing because Sam's sudden, unexpected action had startled him so much. "Dean! Oh God … what … what are you doing here?!"

Dean frowned, becoming instantly concerned by his brother's confused and agitated behaviour. _Kid obviously has a concussion_ , Dean thought, trying to keep his smile light, easy and reassuring, not wanting to spook or startle the kid any more than necessary. "Sammy, it's okay. I came to … help you … remember?"

"No …" Sam moaned, extremely distressed now. "Dean, no, you can't _be here_!" Sam tightly gripped Dean's shirt within his hand, his eyes growing wide with fear. "You have to _go_ Dean! You have to get out of here before _he_ comes back."

"Sammy, it's okay –"

"No!" Sam wailed, violently shaking his head. "You don't understand. You have to get out of here Dean … before _he_ comes back. You don't … the _things he'll_ do to you … please Dean," Sam urged beseechingly. "Please Dean; you need to go now, while you can, before _he_ gets back. _He_ said … God Dean; I won't _let him do_ that to you Dean. I won't let him!" Sam declared fiercely, clutching at Dean's shirt with _both_ hands now, almost as if he could _pull_ Dean away from the perceived threat that Sam saw.

 **DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW**

"Who called you in?" Caelan demanded irately, feeling _extremely frustrated_ at these sons of bitches that would most likely be let loose after today, receiving no punishment for their crimes …

Fuck that!

If these guys were going to get away with what they had done to Sammy then Caelan was going to make damn _sure_ that before they left here today, they would be leaving with a couple of … mementoes … marks (or _scars_ , whichever way you wanted to look at it) that would be a _constant_ reminder of what they had done here today.

Even if they _did_ somehow walk away from this unharmed … Caelan would hope that the daily reminder of the … _scar_ … that they would forever display would at least make them remorseful for the abhorrent acts that they had participated in here today.

Adams might one day feel shame and embarrassment for his actions but Caelan didn't have high hopes that Stewart would feel _anything_ … other than his normal arrogant, cocky, self-assured, thinks-he's-better-than-everyone-else attitude that he seemed to have adopted for his everyday use.

And really, _that_ was the only thing Stewart had going for him – his name and his wealth – everything else that Stewart had trained for and prepared for in order to become a _Hunter_ … he sucked at it … big time; which was why Adams was by Stewart's side constantly … not as a partner … more like a glorified bodyguard!

Man, these guys were _idiots_! Caelan didn't even have to _physically_ hit them in order to hurt them. All he really had to do, in order to bring Stewart crumbling to his knees, was to take away all that wealth, respect and admiration that he had inherited because of his _name_ (the hard work that his father, grandfather great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather had achieved by living and breathing the life of a Hunter, thereby gaining the respect and admiration from other old-school families and Hunters alike).

The most easiest and simplest way that Caelan could completely destroy Peter Stewart … because he had all of the evidence right here … was to show other Hunters a couple of photos of them _torturing_ Sam and wait for the damning evidence to bring Peter Stewart's world crashing down around him. No one would _ever_ want to do business with the Stewart family ever again. No business, no money; no money, no respect; no respect … game on for other Hunters to really _show_ you how they feel when Hunters attack their own for no _probable_ reason or cause.

Yes, if Caelan wanted to, he could bring Stewart's world crashing down around him. But … at the moment, they had more pressing issues to discuss.

"So?" Caelan inquired, his tone abrupt, short and blunt, leaving no question in either Hunters minds that Caelan would be getting a name from them … one way or another. "Who was it that called you guys in?"

"We can't tell you that." Peter stammered nervously. "We tell you that and we may as well be signing our own death warrants!"

 **CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH**

"Sammy," Dean cupped his brother's face in his hands, their foreheads almost touching, forcing Sam's panicked hazel eyes to look into his calm, concerned green eyes. "Sammy, no one's coming to hurt me … or you, okay? We got the bastards who did this Sammy. Me and Caelan took them down; no one's coming to hurt us little brother … I promise."

Sam frantically searched Dean's eyes before he gave Dean a barely visual nod, slowly uncurling his fists from around Dean's shirt. "Okay Dean," Sam breathed, his tense posture beginning to relax; even managing to offer Dean a weak, apologetic smile. "Okay."

"There we go," Dean grinned, gently squeezing his brother's shoulder in approval. "C'mon Sammy, let's get you out of here," Carefully Dean manoeuvred his freakishly tall younger brother to his feet, supporting Sam's weight until the kid's legs became as steady as they could considering his little brother's batter, bruised and exhausted state.

"Don't worry Sammy; those bastards won't live past tomorrow once Dad gets his hands on them. It don't matter that those two idiots grew up in the life or that their fathers are seasoned Hunters; their family names demanding respect and admiration … nope, all the money and respect in the world isn't going to help either one of them when Dad gets his hands on them!" Dean chuckled, supporting Sam's weight as they took an experimental step forward. "And I don't mean to boast or anything … but those two chuckle-heads had nothing on me and Caelan!"

"Two?" Sam frowned, feeling the smile slipping, his heart beginning to pound in both fear and dread.

"Yeah; Peter Stewart and Hank Adams. Never would have pegged either one of them as the suicidal, sadistic type … but hey, what do I know?"

Sam stopped dead in his tracks, causing Dean to look at Sam questioningly, becoming even more alarmed when he noticed his brother's face growing whiter and paler with every second that passed.

"Sammy, maybe we should sit down for a minute," Dean advised, automatically beginning to guide Sam to a chair that he could sit upon and rest.

"Dean … Peter and Hank … they weren't the ones who drugged and kidnapped me. They arrived later … after _he_ called them."

"What?"

"You didn't get the other one?" Sam asked, his whole body beginning to shake in fear. " _He_ … _he_ got away? Sicko …" Sam closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Sicko … _he_ planned this Dean. _He_ planned for Peter and Hank to take the blame for this. _He_ was the one who called you and …"

No! Dead Fucker had escaped?! But how?

Dean clicked his jaw back, determined not to show his disappointment and rising concern to his younger brother. He didn't have time to worry about the Dead Fucker right now. The only thing Dean could think about and concentrate on right now as getting his brother the medical attention that he needed. Everything else could wait until _after_ Sammy was declared physically fit and healthy.

"Don't worry Sammy, it's okay," Dean quickly assured the quaking young man beside him. "I don't care how long it takes, but I will _personally_ hunt that son of a bitch – Dead Fucker – down and end him myself!" Dean promised, protectively holding his baby brother in his arms. "He's never gonna get near you again Sammy … _no one's_ going to get near you again, I promise." Dean vowed vehemently, knowing that this was one promise that he would keep. Because Dean wouldn't rest until that SOB; Dead Fucker was _dead_ at his feet, _his punishment_ for ever having the audacity of putting his God damned filthy hands all over his kid brother!

 **DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW**

"If you don't give me a name Stewart, then I make damn sure that some of these pictures – especially the ones that capture your beautiful eyes – make the rounds anonymously to all of the Hunters in your rich, elite club. Most of the old-school Hunters still abide by the unspoken rule of honour and conduct and how we _never_ hurt one of our own … unless it's life or death.

You think all of those families will see _your_ _view_ on how Sam is no longer a Hunter because he left the hunting life to become a civilian?" Caelan watched Peter squirm uncomfortably at Caelan's barely veiled threat.

Black-mail wasn't something Caelan would often resort to … he found black-mail to be crude, cruel and morally wrong, but this was the only language that Stewart understood. You could threaten to beat him, argue with him until you were blue in the face, try to make him see reason and Stewart would still emerge with that cocky, self-appointed arrogant smirk upon his face.

No, the only thing this bastard truly _feared_ was to have his wealth, power and the respect that he demanded from other Hunters to be stripped away, leaving Stewart with _nothing_ to shield him or hide behind, having to earn respect and admiration the hard way … like everyone else.

Unfortunately for Stewart, as well as lacking in the skills required to be a Hunter, Stewart had _zero_ personality in which others could form a close bond with. He'd spent most of his life putting down other Hunters and laughing in their faces if they made a mistake, so he really had no one to blame but himself now that the tables had turned and he realised just how easily Caelan could tear his whole world apart; everything he knew and loved would be gone in an instant and for the first time in his life, Peter Stewart felt truly afraid.

 **TBC**


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Introducing new character, Caelan Hagan. Hope you enjoy.

 **Special Note:** Special thanks to **Kas3y** for your kind words of encouragement. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

Finally, after what seemed like a life-time Dean emerged from the abandoned warehouse, practically shouldering all of his brother's weight now, Sam's head hanging low, sweating and shaking profusely, his expression lined with pain as he fought to take shallow breaths – even though his body was screaming at him to take deep breaths – because of his cracked, possibly broken ribs.

"Let's rest here a minute Sammy," Dean said, pulling the trembling young man closer toward him, widening his stance so that he could take the full weight of both himself and his brother.

"Thanks." Sam whispered, completely out of breath as he tried to control the waves of pain that radiated and spasmed throughout his entire body. God, he just wanted to curl up somewhere and sleep away everything that had happened and was now likely to happen because of what had transpired here today.

Ever since Sam had returned to a semblance of "normal" thinking – sometimes he couldn't help the odd things that he saw within his mind, but he was at least able to tell that those images weren't happening right at this moment or weren't true at all – he couldn't help but think that he was … forgetting something.

Sam was sure that he had forgotten _lots_ of things … but this … it was something that Sicko had taunted him with, trying to break Sam even further before they had shoved him in that dreaded box!

Sam shuddered violently at that thought, Dean's hold automatically tightened protectively around him.

"You okay Sammy?" Dean inquired softly, knowing that he had to get his brother medical help, but also knowing that Sam wouldn't appreciate it if Dean just took Sam into his arms and carried him over to the Impala, depositing him the passenger seat as Dean took off to the nearest hospital in order to get his brother's injuries seen to as quickly as possible!

His kid brother, even as beaten and _broken_ as he was, still had his pride and stubbornness intact. Sam would have to be knocked out cold before he ever allowed Dean to carry him bridal-style to the car. Dean couldn't help but grin at the mental image that thought produced. Still, if Sam's condition worsened, Dean would throw his brother's pride out the window and carry his brother to the car any damn way he wanted as long as it would get his brother the help and attention that he needed!

"Yeah," Sam hissed through clenched teeth, obviously lying through his teeth, but Dean decided not to push the issue right now, knowing that his little brother was as far from "okay" as you could get.

"Keep … thinking I've … for … gotten … some … thing," Sam panted as he slowly raised his head to look at his big brother, his light brown hair falling awkwardly into his eyes.

Dean resisted the temptation to push the hair from his brother's face, knowing the bitch-face he would receive for that action. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about little brother. Knowing you it's probably some term paper that you forgot to hand in today!" Dean smirked at the disapproving scowl that comment elicited from his geeky little brother.

"Wasn't a … term paper …" Sam stated, pouting slightly. "Something _he_ said … something … to do with … Dad. Oh shit! Dean … think Dad might be … in … trouble!"

Immediately Sam straightened up, his eyes almost bulging out of his sockets, clearly panicked as he pushed away from Dean and attempted to walk as quickly as he could to the Impala, eager to get to Dad and help him before it was too late.

 **SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW**

"You're full of shit!" Peter Stewart screamed at Caelan, his fear turning to anger now. "There's _no way_ that you would allow _anyone_ to see your precious _Sammy_ in _that_ kind of position!" Peter glared up at Caelan defiantly, that trade-mark arrogant smile of his gracing his lips, knowing that he had called Caelan's bluff and won.

Because the jerk was right. There was no way that Caelan would subject the youngest Winchester to anymore humiliation or embarrassment over this. The poor kid had been through enough. But that's why it was also important for Caelan to track down the person _responsible_ for this and to make him pay for _everything_ he had done to Sammy!

"I doubt you'd be defending Sam Winchester if you knew the truth Hagen!" Peter snarled, desperate to regain the upper-hand in this situation once more.

"What are you talking about?" Caelan asked, knowing that he shouldn't give Peter the opportunity to regain any ground that he had lost since being captured by Dean and Caelan, but Caelan was curious … and a tad amused … to see what secret Peter could offer about the youngest Winchester that Caelan didn't know.

Peter's smile grew broader, levelling Caelan with a knowing look. "That boy – _your brother_ – the one that you've been so desperate to defend, protect and avenge … Did you know that little Sammy Winchester had a part in your dear Daddy's demise?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Caelan growled, through with playing games with this clown. Especially if he was going got make up some ridiculous _lie_ that involved Sam being responsible for his Dad's death!

"Sam Winchester, son of Hunter John Winchester, your friend, comrade, brother-in-arms, who decided to go straight and live a _normal_ life … he is directly responsible for your father's death all those years ago!"

 **CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH**

Two steps in and Sam's right knee buckled from under him, Sam nearly having a close encounter with the concrete before strong and steady hands pulled him up, preventing Sam from kissing the ground.

"Whoa, easy Sammy," Dean said, holding Sam steady, watching as tears of pain breeched his brother's defences, his hiss of breaths sounding more like sobs of pain. "I'm sure that wherever Dad is, he's fine. Besides, even if we _could_ get to him … you are in _no_ state to be roughing it up with other _potential Hunters_!"

Sam frowned at Dean's words, knowing that they were true, but if Sam had indirectly gotten Dad in trouble, then he had to do everything he could to help his Dad, no matter what. Sam prepared to pull out the best and most effective weapon in his arsenal … the puppy-eyed look; the look that Sam knew Dean could _never_ refuse, no matter how mad or upset he was at his brother.

Dean groaned loudly when Sam gave him "the look", Sam's bottom lip trembling violently, his wide eyes huge and pleading, blinking at his big brother innocently.

"No Sammy!" Dean growled, closing his eyes so that his brother's "puppy power" couldn't work it's magic on the older Winchester sibling. "Not this time little brother. You are in no shape to be sitting in the Impala for hours end. We _need_ to get your wounds seen to."

Dean reopened his eyes, not missing the disappointed look within his brother's hazel eyes. "When all of your bones are back where they should be and your wounds are treated … I promise we will go after Dad if we haven't heard anything, okay? And if it makes you feel any better, I'll text Dad now, and let him know that we found you. You never know, Dad will probably message me back straight away and you will have been panicking over nothing."

No! This wasn't okay! But Sam knew by the determined, obstinate look upon his big brother's features that this was as close to a compromise as Sam was going to get. "Okay Dean," Sam nodded in compliance, waiting patiently as Dean sent a short text message to their Dad before the two brothers slowly eased down the path that would eventually bring them to Dean's beloved Impala.

 **SW DW JW SW DW JW SW DW JW SW DW JW SW**

John was standing to his feet when he felt his phone vibrate within his front right pocket, faking a stumble, John quickly took his phone out and silently read the message before putting his phone back without Marc being any wiser, suspecting John's stagger as being alcohol related.

"Whoa Johnny, a little too much to drink there, aye mate? Don't worry; I'll get you home safely in a jiffy!" Marc said, his voice dripping with disdain and sarcasm, chuckling in self-satisfaction at a plan being well executed.

John supressed the smirk that wanted to take shape on his lips, the message from Dean reverberating through his mind: _Got Sammy, will be taking him to hospital, will explain when you get here, let me know if you're okay or need back-up._

Sammy was safe. That's all John needed to know and now … now he could kill this son of a bitch without any repercussions for his actions.

Unfortunately, John couldn't make this man's death be as painfully long and drawn out as he wanted because they were out in the open and the threat of eyewitnesses was too great for John to linger with it for too long.

Wobbling, as if he had lost his balance, John lurched to the side. "Think I'm gonna be sick … " John muttered as he fell to his knees and made dry-retching sounds, pretending to be sick, the sounds covering up the subtle noises he made when he pulled his knife from its sheath.

"Really John," Marc tutted in a disgusted tone, and John could see a hypodermic needle within Marc's left hand, the syringe fill with some type of unknown drug – obviously something that would be hard to detect by medical professionals and something that would no doubt keep John "unconscious" until the intended semi-truck ploughed into him and his vehicle – as Marc grabbed John's hair and pulled his head backward, Marc's pale blue orbs brimming with disappointment.

"I expected you to put up much better of a fight than this. I guess it's poetic justice really; you didn't have want it took to keep Mary safe from The Demon and your demonic off-spring; and now you don't have what it takes to stop me from killing you and then killing that damn _Demon Spawn_ – previously known as little Sammy – after I _teach_ him a thing or two about broken _agreements_ and respect!"

John's eyes narrowed, growling deeply within his throat at this madman's threats, and before Marc could plunge the needle into John's arm, dispensing the contents of the drug into his system, John stood up with such speed that it took Marc completely by surprise as John quickly positioned himself behind his traitorous friend and with a quick motion, slashed the man's throat open.

Marc's wide, panicked, shocked eyes sought out John, unable to believe that he had been bested, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood with his own hands.

"That's for my wife; Connor and my baby boy, you sick fucker! Now go to hell where you belong!" John snarled, watching with satisfaction as the life and light drained out of Marc Ley-Lamp's pale blue orbs, knowing that the fight for his youngest son's life and soul had only just begun, but at least this son of a bitch could never hurt Sammy or any other child ever again!

 **JW DW SW JW DW SW JW DW SW JW DW SW JW**

"Come on Sammy," Dean gently coaxed his younger brother, knowing by the soft whimpers that his brother made that Sam was in agonizing and excoriating pain, stubbornly refusing to let Dean carry him the rest of the way as Sam continually put one foot in front of the other, determined to make the trek to the Impala on his own steam … his own legs.

"No," Sam ground out through gritted teeth becoming slightly annoyed at Dean's instance to _carry_ him to the Impala as though he was some invalid or simpleton not capable of walking to the damn car.

Didn't Dean understand _why_ Sam had to do this? It was much more than because of his pride and stubbornness (although that was part of the reason). This was about Sam _proving_ to the SOBS who had done this to him that they hadn't succeeded in _breaking_ him. He was stronger than they gave him credit for and although his _body_ may be bloody, beaten, twisted and broken … his mind and spirit were still intact and more determined than ever to prove them wrong. He was more than just a _Demon Spawn_. He was Sam Winchester, John Winchester's son; Dean Winchester's little brother and it would take more than what these assholes had done to him to _break_ him!

Although … if they shoved him back in that damn box again, Sam didn't know if he could ever recover from something like that. It was hard enough as it was right now to keep his mind focused on the present and not go drifting off into previous scenes of torture that his frazzled mind continued to show him.

Sam bit his bottom lip, constantly urging himself to keep it together for just a little longer … at least until they had put this place behind them within the rear-view mirror, leaving a trail of dust behind them as they sped away in the Impala.

Not only did Sam have something to prove to the SOBS who had … _tortured_ him, but he also had something to prove to himself. He knew that Dean wouldn't think any less of him if Sam suddenly decided enough was enough and allowed Dean to carry him the rest of the way … but Sam would think less of himself if he did that. In an odd, fucked up, weird way … if Sam gave up now by allowing his brother to _carry_ him, then Sam had let those bastards win. They would know how truly broken and messed up Sam really was. And no matter what, Sam would not allow them – or anyone – to see how totally screwed up he really was at the moment.

"Sam, dude, let me _help_ you." Dean said, his tone pleading and insistent, wincing in sympathy at every painful step that his brother took, knowing how much of an effort and toll this was taking out on his already weakened brother. "You have _nothing_ to prove man … not to me."

"I know." Sam said, his tone softening at the worry he could hear within his brother's voice. "And you are helping Dean. Wouldn't … be able … to walk there … without you." Sam turned to give Dean a lop-sided grin that looked more like a grimace of pain – or that he was constipated and needed to take a dump really badly – but Dean appreciated the effort.

Dean opened his mouth about to argue with his headstrong little brother until he saw a look within the depths of Sam's hazel eyes and Dean finally understood why Sam was determined to do this.

Power, control, pride.

Sammy didn't want them to have any more power or control over him than they had already. He was determined to _prove_ to them – and everyone else – that no one controlled his life except him and he was through letting these sons of bitches push him around.

"Okay dude," Dean relented with a sigh, not entirely happy about this decision but understanding why Sam was so hell-bent on doing this, as he tightened his hold about his trembling brother, more determined than ever to take on more of Sam's weight to help make Sam's trek to the car a little easier; instinctively knowing that the only reason Sam was still upright and standing was through his sheer will-power alone. His body wanted nothing more than to curl up somewhere in an unconscious heap, but his mind urged him to continue even though it looked as if Sam was going to keel over any second now.

"Sonuvabitch!" Dean hissed, his eyes widening in shock and anger when he saw … "Caelan Hagen … why is that piece of crap car parked next to my baby?!" Dean demanded in a loud, irritated voice, becoming even more annoyed when it appeared as if his friend hadn't heard him.

"I am going to kick his scrawny ass for parking that monstrosity next to my baby!" Dean growled, muttering other colourful curses and threats under his breath as he struggled down the path with the extra – almost dead – weight of his younger brother.

Sam looked up, startled by the sound of his brother's voice and couldn't suppress the smirk when he saw the flashy red Ferrari 360 parked next to the sleek black classic 1967 Chevy Impala. No wonder his brother was fuming, uttering extreme words of threats and impending violence beside him.

The smirk slipped from Sam's expression a moment later when he realised that two people were sitting within the Ferrari, securely bound, Caelan appearing to be in a very deep and angry discussion with them.

A cold finger of dread wormed it's way down the length of Sam's spine, his breath catching in his throat when he realised _who_ the occupants in the car were.

"Easy Sammy," Dean soothed, shooting his brother an anxious glance out of the corner of his eye, hoping that his muttered string of curses and threats would distract the kid long enough for them to slip past the morons who had terrorized and traumatized his baby brother and into the safety of the Impala.

But, as usual, Sam _never_ did things the easy way! This kid was too clever and smart for this own good sometimes.

Dean pulled his brother closer toward him, offering Sam all of the love, support and encouragement that he could, trying to remind Sam that he was not alone this time; the patented, confident Dean Winchester smirk flashing upon his lips. "Don't worry about those sons of bitches Sam; I won't let them lay one single damn finger on you! I mean, they'd have to be seriously _stupid_ to try something like that with both me and Caelan around. One wrong move … or even a _look_ from them, and I will have great pleasure in rearranging their ugly mugs!" Dean declared, pleased to note that his brother's posture seemed to relax at Dean's presence and words.

"Okay." Sam breathed, straightening up, a look of fierce determination crossing his face as he looked at his big brother and nodded. "I'm ready Dean, let's go."

Dean lightly squeezed Sam's shoulder before letting go, so damn _proud_ of his kid brother right now. Dean didn't know if he'd have the strength to face his … tormentors so soon after being tortured and beaten by those sadistic fucks. But here Sam was, squaring his shoulders, about to look upon the faces of two of the people who had harmed him, a steely resolve reflected within his hazel eyes, determined not to show any fear or weakness in front of these … fuck-heads, proving what Dean had _always_ know about his baby brother: Sam Winchester wasn't weak; Sammy was one of the strongest people that Dean knew!

 **TBC**


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy.

 **Special Note:** Special thanks to **Kas3y** for your kind words of encouragement. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

Glancing around in a casual – so as not to be obvious – but thorough – with the practiced eye of an experienced Hunter – way of his immediate surroundings, searching for unknown threats, assailants or any "eyewitnesses" to the crime that John had just committed in broad daylight; John quickly covered up the body of Marc Ley-Lamp with a black tarp and hastily closed up the back of his truck, satisfied in the knowledge that he had avoided detection for the time being.

Although …

John's eyes skimmed the tree-lines behind the pub; his eyes coming to rest upon a particular patch of brush and foliage; and without knowing exactly way, John felt his apprehension and anxiety levels increase dramatically. He combed the area with a more detailed look, but as far as John could see, nothing seemed to be out of place or particularly unusual.

With a frustrated shrug, John attributed his sudden anxiousness on his nervous desire to get out of here before he was caught with a dead body in the back of his truck!

Swinging himself into the driver's seat, John started the truck and took off out of the pub, urging himself to go at a _normal_ , _respectable_ speed so as not to draw unwanted attention to himself.

John couldn't help the slightly panicked and paranoid feeling that over took him and stayed with him until he had driven at least for an hour, firmly putting that town and hunt behind him, unconsciously making his way to where his boys would be, when that horrible, sickening, paranoid feeling finally left him.

John quickly pulled his truck to the side of the road, his hands beginning to shake uncontrollably now that the general adrenaline had worn off with his final confrontation with crazy-as-a-bat-shit, Hunter, psychopath, dead-as-a-door-nail Marc Ley Lamp.

John rested his head upon his arms and took several deep cleansing breaths. Killing was nothing new to John, he'd been killing for a lot of years both supernatural and human alike (especially if they threatened his boys!) and while John didn't generally go around killing humans – unless he absolutely _had_ to – killing another Hunter and someone he had trusted completely with not only his life but his sons' lives as well … was a new and foreign concept to John.

Even though he knew he didn't have any choice – the guy had threatened not only his life but Sammy's as well – and he _knew_ that this psychotic freak was better off dead; John couldn't help the feelings of guilt and the fear of the ramifications that his actions of killing another Hunter might entail.

John knew he had reasonable justification and cause for his actions; self-defence, just to name one. And then there was the "confession" John had recorded which would more than prove that John hadn't had a choice when he'd had to dispatch of the ex-Hunter and his ex-friend, this particular kill seemed to hit John harder than he expected it would.

Of course, given a choice and if he had to do it all over again … he would make the same decision every damn time. This … _person_ had been fucking with him and his family for too long, for too many years, for John to have just let that go unavenged. Plus, by his own admission, he wasn't going to stop. He'd held no remorse, no guilt for what he had done, believing that his actions had been the right and only path to take.

Sammy!

Oh God, how long had that _monster_ been hurting his baby for while John, oblivious to the fact, shoved his boy into the arms of a mad man while he what … tortured, hit, "conditioned", _brainwashed_ his youngest son, putting God knows what into the mind of his young susceptible son?

An intense rage and desire to bring Marc back to life and kill him all over again filled John's entire being, replacing the guilt and regret he'd experienced at having to murder a fellow Hunter, as he thought of the things that sick son of a bitch might have done to his son!

He had a new mission – a new objective as well as the main goal of killing The Demon who had murdered his beloved wife – to find every one of those SOBS who had been involved in … _abusing_ his son, track them down and teach them a lesson they would never forget about not only going after a fellow Hunter's son, but also hurting _his son_ , which in John's eyes was a crime that you only repaid by giving up your own life.

Once he had dealt with the main people who had hurt his boy, then John was going after the … _organisation_ that Marc spoke of; because if they could condone torturing and brainwashing _innocent children_ , then they were capable of doing _anything_. And that made them dangerous, too much of a threat in John's eyes and needed to be taken down as quickly as possible (especially if they decided to come after his son again!).

John shook his head, clearing his mind of acts of revenge and the violence he would be committing upon those who had dared to even _think_ they had to right to put their hands on _his boy_ ; he had other things to consider and get to before he could got after the "organisation".

His boys.

His thoughts once more turning to his sons, John sent a quick text message to Dean, assuring him that he was okay; had something to care of and that he would meet up with them later. Although John would have loved nothing better than to go screeching toward them right now, accelerator pressed in all the way as he hurtled down the road toward his children … John had a dead body to get rid of.

With a heavy sigh and a nervous feeling within the pit of his stomach, John knew that he would need to call someone in to help with this. The only problem was … who the hell could he trust?

 **JW DW SW JW DW SW JW DW SW JW DW SW JW**

Dean and Sam reached the top of the slight crest that would take them all the way down to the Impala and their means of getting the hell out of here, when Dean heard his phone cite a familiar tone, letting him know that he had received a new text message.

"Hold up Sammy," Dean told his brother, carefully supporting both of their weight, Dean reaching into his pocket for his phone as Sam gave him a curious, questioning look. "Text message," Dean waved his phone in reply as he quickly opened it up and scrolled down to the list of new messages.

"It's Dad," Dean explained to his younger brother, a sigh of relief escaping him. "He's okay Sammy. Said he has to take care of something and then he'll meet up with us. See? I told you! You were worrying for nothing little brother!" Dean nudged Sam's shoulder gently, teasingly, hoping to calm his sibling down a little, recognizing from the subtle signs that Sam gave off that his brother was rapidly losing the war with his new-founded "fake" bravado and confidence the closer the two of them got to not just the Impala and immediate safe haven and exit, but also the _assholes_ who had helped to hurt his baby brother.

Sam nodded distractedly, probably not even hearing a word that Dean had said; too busy concentrating on trying to contain his rising apprehension and fear.

 **DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW**

Caelan stared at Peter in dumbfounded amazement before he burst out laughing at Peter's ludicrous outlandish claim. "You expect me to _believe_ that Sam is responsible for my father's death? Have you completely lost your mind Stewart? Sam was only _ten-years old_ when my father died, how the hell can he be responsible for my father's death?"

Peter's expression twisted into dark malice, his face turning an angry red shade of humiliated scorn as he glared up at Caelan, his blue eyes flashing with seething rage. "Don't you laugh at me," Peter snarled at Caelan, his composure becoming completely non-existent in the face of Caelan's laughter. "Nobody _laughs_ at me! Especially not some lowly two bit Hunter who _thinks_ he knows what the hell is going on but is like a fucking _child_ stumbling around in the dark with no _clue_ as to what is about to hit the hunting community!"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Caelan asked, his interest piqued because he knew that Stewart had revealed more than he should have while consumed by his red hot furry. "Have you guys got some secret agenda going on? Have you been initiated into some secret club that enjoys going around torturing and targeting ex-Hunters?" Caelan taunted in an almost flippant manner, trying to appear uninterested in Stewart's reply when all of the time Caelan was hoping that he had taunted the Hunter enough to give him all of the information he needed in order to figure out who had really targeted Sam Winchester and what the hell this was really all about.

Stewart snorted. "Yeah, right, that's _exactly_ what our "secret club" is up to!" He retorted sarcastically. "You really hit the nail on the head with that one Hagen! It's no wonder you didn't stay in school and finish your education with the amazing deducing skills that you have!" Peter mocked.

"So, there _is_ a _secret club_ ," Caelan couldn't help but grin at Peter's look of mortification as he suddenly realised what he had said. "Please Stewart, why don't you enlighten me some more?"

 **CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH**

"It's okay Sammy," Dean told his agitated sibling, knowing by the slight tremors that shook the young man's body and the way that Sam grasped at Dean's shirt a little tighter that he was more than a little freaked out at having an up close and personal encounter with two of the bastards who had helped to put him in this position! "You don't even have to _look_ at the sons of bitches, okay? Just keep your head down, eyes trained on me and know that I won't let them try _any_ shit with you, okay?"

Sam nodded, hardly listening to his brother's reassurances as he mentally tried to prepare himself for the encounter that he was about to engage in. "Okay Dean," Sam acknowledged, briefly raising his eyes to scan the horizon ahead of them. "Caelan looks pissed," Sam muttered, an edge of worry creeping into his tone now as Dean followed his brother's gaze.

Dean chuckled quietly beside Sam. "You don't need to worry about Cal Sam," Dean told him, knowing from experience what the look upon his friend's face meant. "He's got everything under control, trust me."

Sam shot an eyebrow up skeptically in reply to his brother's declaration, not entirely convinced that Caelan was okay. From Sam's perspective, Caelan's brown eyes held a speck of fear in them.

"Yes, it does appear as if Caelan's losing control, doesn't it? But, believe me when I tell this, Caelan is acting and looking like that on purpose. It's his way of getting the information that he desires. By acting all worried and scared like that, his opponent _thinks_ that Caelan is acting on pure frustration or fear and they _think_ they've got the upper-hand, but then Caelan does a complete one-eighty and ends up getting _them_ all emotional which leads Caelan to be able to both gain the information that he wanted and to beat them at their own game; because any emotion – anger, fear, frustration and hope – that you give into, generally causes you to become sloppy, giving the other Hunter the upper-hand.

Look," Dean said, pointing over at the three Hunters who were all gathered around the opened rear window of the Ferrari, their angry, irritated tones drifting up toward the two boys. "Just watch if you don't believe me," Dean urged, smirking in satisfaction as he watched his friend go to work.

A few seconds later, Sam saw Caelan smirking knowingly while the other two Hunters looked mortified and more pissed off than Caelan had appeared to be before.

"See?" Dean grinned, gently nudging Sam's shoulder. "What did I tell you little brother? Cal played them for the dumb idiots that they are!"

Sam had to agree with his brother's assessment; feeling more relaxed now that he knew Caelan was okay. Sam's eyes flicked over to the two Hunters occupying the back seat of the Ferrari 360, when Sam caught a glimpse of anger fuelled deep blue eyes and slightly irritated, but calculating light green eyes beside him and Sam froze to the spot, images that he had desperately tried to ignore, suppress or deliberately stomp out by keeping his mind and thoughts occupied on something else, suddenly invaded his entire being, and before Sam could stop himself he went spiralling down into the dark recesses of his memories involving a pair of blue eyes and the stinging sensation of a whip across his back.

 **DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW**

Peter opened his mouth to say something in a no doubt scathing manner when Adams – Stewart's silent partner – nudged him in an obvious gesture for Stewart to shut his mouth, shaking his head slightly.

"We have nothing to say," Adams said in a monotone voice, his gaze direct and unblinking; and Caelan knew that he would need to do more than "insult" Hank Adams to get the information that he required. Adams was a lot smarter than he appeared.

"Fair enough," Caelan nodded in approval, respecting Adams' strength and determination in keeping his promise about not saying anything more. "But you guys do know that … whoever it was who "called you in" to help in … _torturing my brother_ ," Caelan growled through gritted teeth. "That they _left_ you to take the rap for this, right?"

Peter and Hank looked at Caelan with blank, uncomprehending looks. Okay, so maybe Adams wasn't as smart as Caelan thought he was!

Caelan couldn't help but roll his eyes as he proceeded to explain himself. "Gentlemen, you two have been set up. This person, or people, _wanted_ you to get caught. They _want_ you to get blamed for this while they get away with what they have done."

Caelan paused as he considered the two Hunters before him, suddenly feeling a tad sorry for these guys as Caelan saw the dawning horror and realisation enter their eyes.

"But … that's not possible!" Peter spluttered indignantly. "We … we're _partners_. We've known him for yea –"

Hank harshly jabbed Peter in the ribs, violently shaking his head in an effort to keep his big-mouthed buddy silent beside him. "Hagen's right Pete," Hank admitted, his tone bitter with resignation. "We were obviously meant to take the fall for this."

"But _why_?" Peter whined in complete disbelief. "We did _everything_ that –"

"Pete, enough!" Hank quickly reprimanded him. "No more talking. Remember Protocol Six."

Peter opened his mouth to object before he closed his mouth and nodded, paling significantly at Hank's words.

"What the hell is Protocol Six?" Caelan asked aloud, not expecting and getting no answer from the Hunters before him.

Caelan let out a deep, long sigh as he mentally processed everything that he had learned from Stewart, and even though Caelan tried to put the pieces of this puzzle together, his mind kept coming back to the fact that Stewart seemed to know more about his father's death than he was letting on.

Disregarding the fact that he thought _Sammy_ was responsible for Connor's death … wasn't Dad's last hunt … wasn't it with Stewart and Adams' fathers? Caelan had _known_ that the other two Hunters with his Dad's last hunt had either deliberately left his Dad to get mauled by the werewolf or they knew who was responsible for his father's unproven murder.

Maybe … if Stewart's Dad was as cocky and self-assured as his son … he might have let slip to Peter about what had actually happened the night his father had died eleven years ago. Maybe he could finally get some definite answers about his father's death. Caelan decided that this was too rare of an opportunity to pass up.

"So, you said Sam was directly responsible for my Dad's death?" Caelan eyes Stewart carefully, calculating every muscle-twitch, facial feature and subtle body language that Peter Stewart displayed. "Tell me … _how_ exactly is he responsible?"

Caelan didn't believe for a second that Sam had any part to do with his Dad's death, but in order to get Stewart to reveal more, he had to play into Stewart's deluded little game.

Peter smiled, knowingly, delighted that he now thought he had the upper-hand in this situation.

"Pete," Hank said in a low, warning voice. "Protocol Six,"

Peter shrugged, unconcerned by his comrade's warning. "You really think we have to worry about Protocol Six when that … _bastard_ has left us out to dry?! Come on Hank, if we're going down, then so should he!"

"Stop it!" Hank hissed, looking around in sudden fear as if expecting to be attacked at any moment.

Caelan couldn't help but mimic Hank's actions, searching the surrounding area for any unknown threat or danger, his Hunter instincts on high alert.

"Don't worry Hank, I'm not suicidal!" Peter muttered, irritation creeping into his voice now. "I was just going to mention that if Hagen really wanted to get to the bottom of his Dad's death … he should ask _him_ what happened!" Peter jerked his head to the right, grinning in smug satisfaction when the two Winchester brothers emerged over the crest of the hill.

Shit!

Now the shit was really going to hit the fan! How the hell did Caelan stop the enraged older Winchester from going after the two Hunters in front of him?

"I don't know what you're grinning about Stewart," Caelan told Peter. "Wasn't Dean Winchester the one who _broke_ your fucking nose? And now … what? … You're trying to make me turn on _Sam_?" Just because you say he _might_ know something about my Dad's death? You really think _Dean_ will allow you out of his sights even if you somehow _did_ convince me to have it out with Sam?"

Caelan turned to smirk at Stewart, seeing his expression darken with rage and frustration. "Distraction. It's a _good_ idea Stewart … unfortunately for you, me and the Winchesters are _brothers_ and nothing you _say_ could break that. Secondly, even if you _did_ somehow manage to distract Dean from watching your every move, then _I_ will be watching your every move. Thirdly … you see that murderous look in Dean's eyes? That look is for you two Stewart. You guys helped in hurting his baby brother. If there's one thing Dean Winchester will never forgive … is _anyone_ hurting his brother." Caelan paused, watching as Peter's gloating look disappeared to be replaced by one of out-right terror.

"He won't kill us," Peter tried to sound confident, but he only succeeded in sounding like a frightened petulant child. "We're Hunters. And as such, he has to honour the Hunters Code."

Caelan gave the Hunter a dirty look before he turned his full attention upon the Winchester siblings, hoping that he could … persuade Dean not to hurt the two Hunters too badly. Although, right now, Caelan would like nothing better than to give into his own urges and beat Peter Stewart within an inch of his life! But as the oldest, he had to show at least some form of restraint and composure.

Damn, sometimes being the oldest majorly sucked ass!

 **TBC**


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes. Dark chapter, contains sexual content.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy.

 **Special Note:** Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

Sam gasped, panicking as he found himself back at the warehouse, his arms shackled to the work-bench. He opened his mouth to scream when he felt rough hands sliding over his body, but nothing came out except a guttural, distressed moan.

No! No! No!

This isn't real! Get me out of here!

Not real! Not real!

Sam could feel the whip upon his naked back as Sam arched … _screaming_ his pain through the gag while low chuckles of delight echoed after each one of his screams.

No!

Dean! Help me! Wake me up! Please … I don't want to go through this again … Dean … please …

Sam saw the man with deep blue eyes grin up at him and that's when Sam lost the ability to differentiate between what was real, what had happened and what was happening now as he spiralled down into the horrific memory, experiencing everything all over again.

"I'm going to make your body want me so bad that you'll be begging for sexual release." The man with blue eyes promised, his blonde hair tickling Sam's earlobe, feeling the hands travelling lower and lower … the whip still cracking painfully upon his back … the hands sliding onto his groin and Sam couldn't help his body's instant reaction to that touch; as much as he hated and felt betrayed by his own body, Sam had _no control_ over _that_ reaction, checks burning with shame and embarrassment, tears slipping from his eyes, silently begging … pleading with them to stop … Please stop …

"See, I told you," blue eyes laughed at Sam as his hands slowly massaged is groin moving closer and closer … "Soon, you'll be screaming my name in ecstasy!" Blue eyes declared, the whip striking his buttocks now in time with the hands that stroked … as another pair of hands ran down the length of his bloody back, hot breath against his neck … "See, I told you you'd like it." Blue eyes gloated, pleased by what he had accomplished. "I told you that you'd be begging me for more!" …

No!

Sam gasped, eyes flying wide open in panic, instinctively pulling away from the gentle but firm hands that encircled his waist as he jerked his body out of Dean's gasp.

Sam felt the sensation of falling to the ground, reflectively gagging as he tried to scrub that memory, that image from his mind; trying not to drown, trying to remember that he was safe now, Dean had found him, Dean had saved him!

"Dean!" Sam wailed pitifully from the ground, barely any volume in his voice, the violent spasms of gagging overtaking him; desperately wanting Dean to come and take this all away; to somehow make this all better; to make it all disappear so that Sam doesn't have to remember … doesn't have to relive how his own body had _betrayed_ him, how his own body had _craved_ for the touch …

"Dean!" Sam called again, his voice stronger, louder, panicked as shame and embarrassment tried to claim him now. "DEAN!"

"It's okay Sammy, I'm here. I'm here buddy, you're safe now. It's okay; I've got you little brother."

Warm, comforting hands encircled Sam, cradling him, soothing him and Sam instantly felt himself relax as he moulded himself into the arms that surrounded him.

"Dee!" Sam sobbed, his head cradled under his brother's chin and Sam could feel his brother's deep rumbling voice; the voice and the familiar embrace calming him almost instantly. "I'm sorry," Sam choked out, hiding his head in shame. "I'm sorry Dean, I couldn't … I couldn't stop …"

"Ssh, it's okay Sammy," Dean said softly, running gentle fingers through Sam's hair, feeling the kid relax even more at that comforting and familiar gesture. "No need for apologizes little brother, you have nothing to be sorry for. This isn't your fault … none of it is your fault."

"But … you don't _know_ what happened," Sam said in such a haunted, defeated tone that Dean was almost tempted to pull his gun out and shoot those two sons of bitches dead for making his baby brother _ever sound_ like this.

"Doesn't matter," Dean swiftly interrupted his brother, wanting nothing more than to get rid of that tone from his kid brother's voice. "It's not your fault Sammy," Dean repeated in conviction. " _None_ of it is your fault, do you hear me?"

 **SW DW JW SW DW JW SW DW JW SW DW JW SW**

John's first instinct was to call on Pastor Jim Murphy for help … and if it had been anything other than a _dead body_ , John would have made that call in a heartbeat.

Implying, saying or even _thinking_ that Jim Murphy was a part of this _organisation_ and was involved in torturing and brainwashing innocent children into their way of thinking would be akin to John or Dean being involved in hurting and torturing Sammy themselves … it was unthinkable to John to even consider that Jim was in on this whole sordid affair of Hunters going after _children_ or getting rid of other Hunters if they got wind of the great scheme of things or saw something they weren't supposed to see.

As much as John could really use Jim's guidance and counsel right now, he knew that he could never ask Pastor Jim to help him get rid of a body. And not just _any_ body, but a _Hunter's_ body.

Although Jim would understand why John had had no choice but to kill this man, John knew that Jim would want no part in helping John dispose of the body and then helping John cover up a murder that John had committed in broad daylight.

No, John would not get his friend involved with accessory to murder – covering up and lying about something this big would rip Jim's moral conscience apart – even though he knew Jim wouldn't hesitate in helping John … especially since it involved Sammy. Jim would do just about _anything_ for John's boys … John knew that he could never use his friend to participate in depositing, destroying and covering up the crime of a murdered man.

Okay, so if Jim was out for now … who else did that leave? Caleb was John's instantaneous answer to that question. All right then, Caleb it was. Quickly John punched in Caleb's number and waited for the younger Hunter to answer.

John soon learned that Caleb was en-route to help out with a situation that involved all three of his sons – Dean, Sam and Caelan – and John knew that he couldn't take Caleb away from that mission. Caelan had called Caleb for help, what kind of help, he hadn't said … only that it was dangerous and could have every potential Hunter after their asses.

That information had made John more determined to finish up his own mission and head toward his sons as fast as he could, feeling panicked and worried about what they had all gotten involved in.

 **JW DW SW JW DW SW JW DW SW JW DW SW JW**

Dean's big brother instincts flared brightly within him, the need to protect Sam warring with the need to rip some bastards lungs out for having hurt his baby brother in the first place!

But, Sammy came first. Always. Sam's needs would _always_ be above anyone else's needs, including his own!

So Dean stayed with his brother – even though he wanted to march down the incline, rip open the Ferrari's door and beat the living shit out of the two Hunters who resided in the back seat – wrapping his arms tightly around his trembling brother's frame, running calm fingers through his hair, talking softly, soothingly in his ear, trying to get the kid to calm down to a more tolerable level where Dean could actually _help_ his brother.

"Easy Sammy, I've got you little bro, I've got you."

After several long minutes, Dean finally felt the tremors within his brother's body begin to easy, Sam's wide, haunted hazel eyes staring up at him, Sam's head resting upon his shoulder.

Sam searched his brother's expression before a tentative, tired smile appeared upon his features. "Dean … you can't do it man," Sam told him, his voice weak, but fill of determination and conviction.

"Can't do what?" Dean frowned in puzzlement.

"You can't kill them." Sam said, looking his brother straight in the eye. "I know that look … and I know that you're only looking out for me, and I appreciate it, but …"

"But what?"

"What they did … was nothing compared to what Sicko did."

"Huh." Dean snorted. "Try telling me something I'll believe Sammy because your reaction to only just _seeing_ those sons of bitches … that was _not nothing_ bro!"

"I didn't say it was _nothing_ ," Sam quickly interrupted his brother's angry tirade. "I said that compared to Sicko …" Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It doesn't matter; you're still not going to kill them."

Dean raised his eyebrows, not sure whether to be amused or annoyed by his little brother's over confident statement. "Really? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't." Dean countered.

Sam looked up at Dean, his expressive hazel eyes both calm and pleading at the same time. "Because I'm asking you not to."

Well … Damn!

Dean definitely wasn't expecting that answer. And it left him speechless, gaping at his younger brother like an idiot, while his mouth struggled to form words and _speak_ them in an effort to alleviate the sudden seriousness of the situation.

Sam let out a long, weary sigh. "Please Dean … I need your help to make it to the Impala."

Dean carefully eyed his brother, instantly noticing that Sam was reaching maximum exhaustion level and any minute now he was likely to crash and burn; plus Dean could detect the unspoken words within his brother's statement: _Please don't leave me alone, I need you_.

Dean let out an irritated huff, unable to deny that lost, pleading expression upon his baby brother's face. "Fine," Dean muttered gruffly. "No killing the damn Hunters this time. But the next time we cross paths … the deal's off … understand?"

"Got it," Sam agreed in relief, allowing his brother to help him to his feet as a wave of exhaustion suddenly washed over him.

"It's okay Sammy, I've got you." Dean whispered soothingly into Sam's ear as the two of them slowly made their way down the incline, toward Caelan and toward the Impala; Dean trying his best to keep his anger under control, continually reminding himself of the promise he had just made to his younger brother.

 _There shall be no killing today … but tomorrow … tomorrow you bastards will be mine. And I will make you pay for what you did to my baby brother_. Dean promised himself, turning to give the two Hunters in the Ferrari a half-smile filled with promise and deadly intent.

 **DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW**

Caelan's eyes widened when he spotted the Winchester siblings making their way – at an excruciating snail's crawl – toward them, Dean practically _dragging_ a nearly unresponsive and incoherent Sam Winchester beside him, whispering soothingly into the boy's ear – because even though Sam was technically a man, Sam would always be the snot-nosed little boy that Caelan had baby-sat for many years ago – Sam's head flopped onto his chest, looking as if he was going to keel over at any second now.

Instinctively, Caelan rushed toward the two Winchesters, wanting to help Dean with the burden of carrying Sam to the Impala, but one look from Dean – his green eyes flashing dangerously, protectively, accusingly – stopped Caelan dead in his tracks as he tilted his head to the side, frowning slightly in confusion at Dean's almost aggressive attitude toward him.

"What the _fuck_ are those two sons of bitches still doing here Cal?" Dean demanded, his voice low, gruff, fill of murderous intent as he tugged Sam impossibly closer to his side protectively, shooting wrathful glances to the two occupants in the Ferrari 360.

"Yeah, I know, sorry," Caelan murmured nervously, shooting a worried, guilty look in Sam's direction. "I was hoping to have them out of here before you guys showed up but … Caleb's still twenty minutes out and I'm not exactly sure what to do with them anyway." Caelan admitted, biting upon his bottom lip worriedly as Dean gave him an incredulous look.

"You called _Caleb_?! Have you completely lost your mind?!" Dean hissed, deliberately keeping his voice low so as not to frighten the young man beside him. "In case you haven't noticed, we are obviously dealing with a _group_ of _Hunters_ who have been hurting and fucking with my little brother's mind for years! How the hell could you call in _another_ Hunter when we don't know _who_ exactly is involved in this?"

"I know Dean," Caelan replied to his clearly irate friend. "But this is _Caleb_ and I trust Caleb with my life!" Caelan declared passionately. "That man has saved my life – and both yours and Sam's lives – on numerous occasions. Don't you think that if Caleb had anything to do with this, we would have known by now?"

"We didn't even _know_ that _Hunters_ had been "punishing" my brother for years until a few hours ago!" Dean retorted vehemently. "I'm sorry Cal, but I don't know _who_ I can trust at the moment."

Caelan saw the fear resonating within Dean's deep green eyes – fear, not for himself but for his brother – and Caelan let out his agitation in a soft huff. "Dean, I get it, I understand, okay? But we can't handle this alone man. I think … I don't think that Stewart and Adams are behind this – involved, definitely – but they aren't the masterminds Dean. There's something … larger at play here man, and until we _know_ what exactly is going on …" Caelan shrugged miserably, helplessly. "I just … we need help dude, and Caleb … I _know_ he's on our side. You have to _trust me_ on this Dean, Caleb's one of the good guys."

Dean hesitated, knowing Caelan was right and that they had to trust _someone_ , but right at this moment, all Dean could think about was protecting his little brother and getting him to a God damned hospital so that he could try and put this kid back together again.

"Caleb's … not … involved."

Both Caelan and Dean turned to look at Sam as Sam struggled to raise his head enough to look both men in the eyes.

"Caleb's _not_ involved," Sam repeated, his voice stronger, his hazel eyes clear and fill of conviction. "Caelan's instincts … are good … Dean," Sam turned to Dean nodded in assurance, his smile wobbling upon his lips at the effort that it took for him to complete that simple gesture.

Smile.

An expression everyone took for granted and performed unconsciously and countless times throughout the day; and here Sam was, struggling to keep up and do that one simple little gesture!

Dean let out an explosive sigh, reluctantly nodding his consent, not wanting to argue about this. He had to get his brother put back together! "Fine. You stay here and wait for Caleb. I have to get Sam to a hospital."

 **CH DW SW JW CH DW SW JW CH DW SW JW CH**

If anything Marc said was true – and John believed that every word Marc had spoken was the truth – then other Hunters were responsible for his youngest son's abduction; which meant that while rescuing Sammy, Dean and Caelan had likely come across other Hunters … John could only hope that his boys had more self-control than him and hadn't killed them.

That would be something John would gladly indulge in once getting rid of Marc's dead body. Plus, if anyone was going to get the blame for killing other Hunters, John was only too willing to put himself forward in order to spare Dean and Caelan from the wrath of other Hunters.

After assuring Caleb that he was fine and that Caleb should continue in his current destination to help his boys, John ended the call and continued to drive, looking for a likely spot in order to "hide" the body until he could dispose of it later.

Hunter Code dictated that if a Hunter was to kill a human – because no matter how careful you were, sometimes accidents happened – they should let another Hunter know who could exam the evidence and decide if it was a justified kill or not.

Normally your hunting partner could verify if it was justified or accidental; and these days it was more of a formality than anything else. Even if the kill wasn't justified or accidental, John doubted that any of the other Hunters would give a damn. As long as it didn't happen too often, Hunters would generally turn a blind eye to that rule.

But since the human John had killed was a Hunter – and his partner Hunter – John wanted to do this one by the book. He needed to inform another Hunter of what had happened so that when John _did_ dispose of the body, Hunters wouldn't think that he had deliberately destroyed evidence, linking himself to the murder in order to cover up the fact that John had murdered one of their own.

If John was to dump the body and run … that would in effect be an admission to his guilt, thereby giving free reign for Hunters to come after him and his boys. So, in order to protect his boys, John had to do this the right way.

John ran a hand through his dark hair as he checked his rear-view mirror absently, noting the non-descript car behind him.

John was about to return his attention back to the road when the peculiar anxious, paranoid feeling that had assaulted John previously when he had been scanning the surrounding area outside of the pub, hit him with full-force once again.

John frowned slightly as he looked more closely at the car that was behind him. There was nothing special about the car; nothing that screamed _Watch out, this guy is tailing you_! It was a non-descript Ford Focus.

But something about the vehicle produced John's instincts to scream into life. And it wasn't until now that John realised that he had seen this car before. It was sitting outside of the pub before John had slit the throat of his traitorous friend.

 **TBC**


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy.

 **Special Note:** Special thanks to **Kas3y** and **Marylouanna** for your kind reviews. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER NINETEEN**

Hospital?! Oh God, no!

Sam's head shot up, his eyes wide and frantic. "No!" he said loudly, stubbornly. "No hospital! Dean … you can patch me up."

Dean took in his brother's wide, panicked eyes, fill of fear, shame, embarrassment and humiliation, knowing how terrified and freaked his little brother was right now to have _strangers_ put their hands all over him. But …

Dean ran a critical eye up and down the length of Sam's body, knowing that some of Sam's wounds were beyond his medical expertise and capabilities. Dean bit his lower lip, not wanting to deny anything that the kid wanted right now, but this …

"Sam … I don't think I can man," Dean whispered, watching Sam's expression fall in disappointment.

"Dee, _please_ ," Sam begged, sound like a vulnerable child which pulled at Dean's protective strings.

"Sammy … I don't even _know_ if I can pop your shoulder back in without causing some major damage or pain. Your knee is fucked and I'm fairly certain you've busted some ribs, not to mention your broken wrist … Sammy, I can't _fix_ those types of injuries dude." Dean said softly, pleading for his little brother to at least _try_ to understand where he was coming from. "And then there's the more … _delicate_ injuries … I'm sorry Sammy, I can't fix you by myself. You need to see a _real_ doctor."

Sam hung his head, feeling the tremors of fear racing through his body. He knew Dean was right; intellectually, Sam knew that he needed to be in a hospital and to be seen by a _real doctor_ , but the thought of being in that environment; clinical cold _hands_ assessing him and putting his bones and body back into order; being asked questions on _how_ he had received all of these injuries; not being able to have his brother close at hand, not entirely sure _who_ he could trust …

Oh God, it was going to be a nightmare!

Sam was fully prepared to accept the consequences of his body not healing completely, causing him pain for years to come if that meant he didn't have to go to hospital and have all of those strangers poke and prod at him, demanding answers that Sam didn't know if he _could_ or wanted to give them. Hell, he'd even gladly walk with a limp if that's what it took. But, please, Dean, please no hospital!

Dean glanced over at Caelan over the top of Sam's sunken, despondent head, the kid's tortured sobs tearing at Dean's very _soul_ , looking over at Caelan, a look of desperation and helplessness upon his face. All he wanted to do was to deposit his brother in the Impala, drive as far and as fast away as he could away from this dreaded place, keeping Sam by his side forever in order to keep him safe from the so-called Hunters who had viciously and violently attacked his baby brother for no reason; protecting him, guiding him and looking after him because no one else could do the job required in order for Dean to be able to care for his Sammy. It was _his_ job to _protect_ and look out for Sammy; and Dean was determined to fulfil his job description to the best of his ability. No one was getting near _his Sammy_ ever again without his say so!

Caelan's expression softened at the look of Dean's evident desperation in wanting to do what the kid wanted, fighting with the realistic side of him that knew that Sam required proper medical attention.

Caelan smiled gently as he placed a calming, soothing hand upon Dean's shoulder. "I think I may have a solution to your problem my man," Caelan said, turning to give a cold, calculating stare at the two occupants in the Ferrari before he faced the Winchester siblings once more, letting out his breath in a low sigh, knowing that Dean wasn't going to be too thrilled with this suggestion – hell, Caelan wouldn't be surprised if Dean didn't try to knock him out for this! – but also knowing that it was the only viable option that the two siblings had left.

"What?" Dean asked, both eager and apprehensive at the same time. "What are you thinking dude?"

Caelan gave Dean a cursory glance before he ducked his head down to meet the younger hesitant sibling's eyes. "Hey Sammy," Caelan said softly, his smile gentle and affectionate. "Hate to tell you this kid, but you look like shit!"

Sam offered Caelan a slight shrug in reply even as he instinctively pressed closer to Dean.

Caelan shot another look in Dean's direction before he turned his attention back to Sam, still speaking in that same calm, soothing tone, hoping not to spook or upset the boy too much. "I know that the last thing you need or want right now is to be handled by strange doctors and nurses … but like Dean said, your injuries are too … complex for him to handle alone."

Sam raised wide panicked eyes to Caelan, wordlessly pleading with Caelan to not make him go to a place he really didn't want to be at. Please, not with all of those strangers and …

"Relax," Caelan gently soothed the younger man. "I'm not going to force you to do anything that you don't want to do, and I doubt that Dean has the heart to do that to you either. What if I could promise you that Dean could be with you at all times? Would you be willing to go then?"

Sam considered Caelan's request and the hopeful look within Sam's enormously large hazel eyes almost brought tears to Caelan's own eyes as Sam slowly nodded his consent to Caelan's question. If Dean could be with at all times, Sam would be able to brave all of those nameless doctors and nurses. He just couldn't do it alone … at least, not right at this moment anyway.

Caelan beamed at Sam proudly, knowing how difficult it must be for the young man to be in a strange, unfamiliar place after what he had been though, surrounded by cold and faceless people that he didn't know. This kid's courage never ceased to amaze him!

Another anxious glance toward Dean and Dean was starting to get the impression that he wasn't going to like this idea of Caelan's at all as he gave Caelan a pointed look before turning his attention back to Sam.

"There's a problem though Sammy. In order to get you into a hospital like that and to be seen by a doctor who will allow your brother to be with you every step of the way …" Caelan hesitated, running a quick, nervous hand through his hair before continuing. "It will mean having to ask one of those two fuck-heads over there for a favour … " Caelan indicated Peter and Hank with a jerk of his head, seeing absolute terror enter the kid's hazel eyes before he heard the expected explosive outburst from Dean.

 **CH DW SW JW CH DW SW JW CH DW SW JW CH**

Shit!

Looks like John did have someone tailing him and someone who had witnessed him murdering Marc; someone who was content to quietly follow John, making a damn good job of not drawing attention to themselves while they patiently waited for an opportune moment to catch John unaware.

Fuck!

Now John's options were really limited. But first thing he had to do was to lose this guy. He needed some alone time if he was going to pull off the plan that had been formulating in his mind ever since he'd heard Marc's confession. Didn't matter that this was Plan D … it was the only viable option that he had left.

John spent an hour driving both defensively and like a mad lunatic in order to try and ditch his tail, all the while trying to drive as if John wasn't aware of the guy following behind him. The last thing that John wanted was to tip the guy that he had been spotted because John had no clue what he would do and he hadn't had a chance to put his plan into effect yet.

Half an hour later saw John parked up in a town, whose name John didn't know or could care less about, heading to the post-delivery box. There, John licked the envelope to seal it, hurriedly writing the name and address of the person he was sending this vital information to, praying that these bastards wouldn't think to intercept the mail – and once they finally did figure out that John didn't have the information on his person – that they wouldn't even consider that John would send it in the mail to this actual person.

It was the last person in the world that John would send valuable information to, not wanting to involve them, desperately trying to protect them. But John knew that this person would be able to keep the sensitive information safe until John could retrieve it again … _if_ he could retrieve it again, John amended quietly.

Depositing the letter and its contents into the mail box, John quickly got behind the wheel of his truck and left this nameless town behind him, still very conscious of the dead body that he had in the back of his truck.

John wasn't stupid enough to think that he had lost his tail for good. The guy was too good at following John for him to have been able to lose him so easily. So he wasn't surprised when twenty minutes later, John spotted the now familiar car in his rear-view mirror, keeping its distance so as to avoid detection, but close enough in order to follow John wherever he went, no matter how sharply he took a turn or tried to evade him.

Instinctively, John's gut was telling him that this guy was more than just a mere "eyewitness" to a murder. With everything that Marc had revealed, it didn't take a genius to figure out that this _secret admirer_ was either a Hunter – maybe Marc's friends Adams and Stewart – or a Hunter who was connected with the _organisation_ that Marc spoke of. Either way, their objective would be the same; to retrieve any information or evidence John might have obtained – the recorded confession and Marc's dead boy – and to eliminate the possible threat that John now posed to them and their secret organisation.

Rounding the corner to come across a lone stretch of road, with no other traffic except the two of them, John wasn't entirely surprised to see that the car behind him was speeding up. Obviously they were ready to make their move as John gripped the steering-wheel tighter, his jaw clenched together in tension, waiting for the inevitable impact to come.

 **JW CH DW SW JW CH DW SW JW CH DW SW JW**

"No fucking way Caelan! How the hell can you even _suggest_ such a thing? Having to ask _them_ for a favour … taking Sammy to a hospital that one of their father's own? Are you completely out of your fucking mind?"

"His Dad doesn't own the hospital Dean," Caelan replied calmly, his eyes fixed upon Sam the whole time, assessing the kid's body language, trying to make sure that Sam didn't get too … agitated by this idea.

"His sister runs the hospital, abandoning the Hunter's life so that she could gain a medical degree. If I'm not mistaken, she hasn't talked to her _parents_ in years, but she's still close with her brother and has been known to help out a fellow Hunter or two over the years."

Caelan switched his gaze back to the infuriated older brother before him, understanding Dean's fear and overzealous protectiveness, but really … did Dean honestly think that Caelan would send Sam into a potentially _dangerous_ situation?

"Dean, I've meet the woman – even been to see her a couple of times myself – and I _know_ that she will be able to offer you the discretion, sensitivity and medical knowledge that Sam needs. Dean, I wouldn't _willingly_ send the kid into a harmful situation." Caelan concluded, his dark eyes imploring Dean to have some faith in him.

Caelan saw the stubborn lines fix onto his best friend's face, opening his mouth to argue with Caelan's assessment, but before he could even form the words to begin his counter argument, Sam's soft, determined, sure tone of voice stopped Dean in his tracks.

"Okay," Sam agreed. "I'll go to this hospital, but only if I get seen by her and if Dean stays with me." Sam declared, the Winchester stubbornness showing within his eyes. As far as he was concerned, this discussion was over.

"You've got it Sammy," Caelan grinned, nodding in relief. "Dean, get Sammy to the hospital. If, after you've met her, you still don't like her or think it's not a good idea, then you can always leave … right?"

Dean glanced from Caelan to Sam and then back to Caelan again, wanting to rip into his friend for even _suggesting_ that Sam go to a hospital that one of those asshole's sibling worked at … but one look at his brother's haggard and exhausted features, changed Dean's mind. Caelan was right. If he didn't like the situation once they had entered the hospital, then they could always leave.

Dean gave Caelan a tight nod of agreement for his friend to proceed, but Caelan could also detect the this-is-far-from-over look and we-will-discuss-this-once-Sammy's-better look.

"Okay," Caelan replied to Dean's silent looks. "I'll make all of the arrangements you'll need for the hospital, and wait here for Caleb. Once I've finished up here, I'll meet you both at the hospital."

"Okay," Dean said, his voice clipped, tone indicating that he was not happy with this situation as he gently guided his younger brother to the Impala and helped him into the passenger seat before closing the door behind him.

"Caelan," Dean called out, watching as his friend stopped and looked back at him quizzically. "You be careful," Dean told him seriously. "If things go … if it's not in your favour, get out and come find us, okay dude?"

Caelan gave Dean a lop-sided grin before he waved Dean's worry about his safety away dismissively. "I'll be fine man, you just take care of the little dude, and I'll see you both soon." Caelan promised, watching as Dean got into the Impala and drove away with his precious cargo on board; while Caelan walked over to make a deal with one of the fuck-heads who had helped to put both of his brothers in this awkward and terrifying position.

To ensure that Sammy got the help he needed and to keep the promise he had made to the kid about Dean being able to stay with him throughout the whole process of his treatment, Caelan stepped forward and eyed the two occupants in the Ferrari with a cold, calculation expression.

It was time to make a deal.

 **CH DW SW JW CH DW SW JW CH DW SW JW CH**

Before John could feel the car behind him hit his bumper, a steady stream of traffic from the other side of the road caused his pursuer to fall back. He obviously didn't want any witnesses to the "accident" that he was about to purposely cause.

John breathed a sigh of relief; not that he was scared of having it out with his _admirer_ – in fact, John welcomed it – no, what scared him the most was something happening to him and his boys not knowing what had happened. He didn't want them thinking he had run off and _abandoned_ them. John had to let someone know where he was and what the hell was going on.

Fumbling in his pocket to bring out his phone, keeping an eye on both his pursuer and the road ahead, hoping that his luck would hold out at least until he had gotten this message set; typing upon the keys of his phone in an almost desperate, frantic kind of way, John was able to send out his current location, and an SOS message to his old friend Bobby Singer.

Even though John and Bobby weren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment, John knew that Bobby would put aside his disgruntled feelings toward John and help him out at a moment's notice … because John would do the same for the older Hunter. There was no doubt in John's mind that his boys would be completely safe under Bobby's protection. This was one friend John had never had any doubts about when it came to the safety and well-being of his children.

In fact, that's what the big blow out between the men had been about. Bobby hadn't liked how John had disciplined his boys after a hunt gone badly because of a simple fuck up that Sammy had caused which had just about cost everyone their lives.

Dean had intervened while John was in the middle of disciplining Sammy, which had caused John's temper to spike even further as he'd instinctively struck his oldest son in the jaw, which in turn had Bobby stepping up to give John a piece of his mind on John's "crappy parenting skills" (as Bobby had called it). Not appreciating either Bobby's interference or his unwanted advice, John had packed up, told the boys to get in the car and had left the older Hunter behind, both of them stewing in their own resentment and frustrations.

That incident had happened five years ago; Dean had been twenty and Sammy not long turned sixteen … one month before the anniversary of Mary's death. The two men hadn't spoken since; both of them too stubborn and proud to make the first move and apologize.

But now, with John facing his possible last moments on this earth, he had no doubt that Bobby would come to his aid and keep his boys safe from harm.

John glanced in his rear-view mirror and felt a deadly smirk cross his lips, noticing the Ford Focus speeding up once more as the traffic began to taper off as John pressed his foot down upon the accelerator.

Just because things didn't look too good for John at the moment, that didn't mean that he was going to make it easy on his tail. If the guy was that determined to run John off the road, causing an accident that may result in John's own death, John was damn well going to make sure that the son of a bitch had to work for it!

Now that Sammy was in the custody of his brother's ever watchful care and the taped confession was safely on its way to its new owner, ensuring the protection of both himself and his family, John knew that he didn't have to hold anything back as he felt reckless abandonment surge within him.

"Come on you son of a bitch," John grinned his expression one of fierce determination. "Let's see what you're made of." He challenged his _secret admirer_ , an almost primal satisfaction filling him, knowing that this game of cat and mouse had finally reached its conclusion.

 **TBC**


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy.

 **Special Note:** Special thanks to **Kas3y** for your kind reviews. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY**

"How are you doing kiddo?" Dean asked, seeing his brother's face contort into lines of extreme pain, worried and concerned because of how quiet Sam had become since leaving the abandoned warehouse behind them.

"Okay," Sam gasped, shifting slightly in the seat to try and relieve the pressure he was putting upon his sensitive lower extremities, but the slight shift of position – although helping a little with his rear-end – caused a wave of pain to cascade throughout the rest of his body.

"Fuck!" Sam swore softly, clenching his teeth together, his body rigid and tense as he tried to ride through the reverberating pain that coursed through the entire length of his body.

Sam had a brief notion to fling the car door open and get out of this cramped and uncomfortable seat, finding a position in which he could spread out his already cramped muscles from spending time within that damn fucking box … and it was only the feel of his brother's hand placed upon his chest in order to clam, soothe and prevent Sam from moving in case he caused more injury to himself which stopped Sam from following through with this plan.

"Easy little brother," Dean said, not able to hide his anxiousness as well as he would have liked when noticing how pale the kid had become as small tremors of pain rocked the frail young man's body beside him. "We're nearly there Sammy," Dean soothed, his tone confident and sure, even as he pressed his foot harder against the accelerator, desperately praying for Caelan to call them soon with instructions on what to do once they reached the hospital.

"How … long …" Sam panted, the effort it was taking him to talk, almost making him pass out cold.

"Not long," Dean assured, his hand moving from Sam's chest to his shoulder, squeezing in gentle reassurance and comfort. "Not too much longer now bro, and then we'll be able to put your body back together, okay?"

Sam nodded, squeezing his eyes shut, bitting upon his bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood. And before he knew what had happened, Sam sunk down into the oblivion of unconsciousness.

Dean panicked when Sam slumped in his seat, but after checking Sam's vitals – breathing, pulse, airway – he was more than relieved when the lines of pain smoothed upon his brother's brow, his body free from pain as he slipped into the abyss of unconsciousness. At least for the moment, his little brother was free from the pain that had consumed him.

 **DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW**

Caelan wasn't looking forward to this at all. Already the two Hunters – well, namely Peter Stewart – was too cocky for his own good despite the horrendous situation that Caelan and Dean had caught them participating in. Now that Caelan had to "ask" him for a favour … he knew that the Hunter would be even more unbearable than before.

Caelan took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm his thoughts and his mind, knowing that in this situation Peter would have the upper-hand. The key here though was to try and not give Peter all of the bargaining power and there was still one bargaining chip that Caelan had left at his disposal – their freedom – but that was only to be used as a last resort. And Caelan had a feeling that he wouldn't have any other choice but to use the last resort if he was to help his brothers get the attention that they needed.

Squaring his shoulders, a cool, calm, emotionless mask settling over his features, Caelan made his way toward the two Hunters, fear of the unknown shinning within the depths of their eyes, even though they appeared confident and non-afraid on the outside (the Hunter's bluff!).

"What's the matter Hagen? Have your _boyfriends_ left you stranded all by your little old lonesome?" Peter sneered, his voice shaking slightly, his blue eyes fill of fear and doubt.

Caelan smirked as he leaned against the car, recognizing Peter's act for what it was … an act. "I have a proposition for you Stewart," Caelan said, ignoring Peter's comment, knowing that it was said in order to get a rise out of him. And Caelan wasn't bitting, not when he was bargaining with a sick, twisted son of a bitch who enjoyed helping in torturing and scaring his little brother for life!

No, the time for playing games was over. It was time for Caelan to get serious. "And if you're _really_ lucky, you might get out of this without me drastically rearranging your face."

 **CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH**

Dean was almost tempted to pull over and make a full examination of his brother's injuries, but Dean didn't want to disturb Sam's restful slumber, plus he didn't really have a spare twenty minutes checking over his brother's wounds. His main objective was to get Sam some proper medical help as soon as was humanly possible.

Of course, he'd be able to get there a hell of a lot faster if Caelan would call him and let him know what the damn game plan was. Dean glanced down at his phone, that he had placed upon the dash in order to be able to reach it in a hurry if it rung, and almost growled at the lack of activity upon his screen.

Damn Caelan, call me already! Dean urged, gripping the steering-wheel tightly, his jaw clicking back in both frustration and worry for his little brother and now his best friend since it shouldn't be taking him this damn long to get those SOBS to cave into his request! – as he shifted his attention from his phone to his baby brother.

While coaxing his brother out of that damn box – which Dean was so going to melt down at a later stage – Dean had, of course, seen some of the damage inflicted upon Sam's body – bruises, whip marks upon his back, the swelling of his nose, broken left wrist, fucked right knee ( just to name a few injuries he had seen by his quick cursory assessment and examination of his brother ) – but now, as Dean ran a critical eye over his sibling's body, Sam's head rolled to the right away from him, Dean couldn't help but notice a burned patch of skin in between Sam's collar-bone and left shoulder.

Dean frowned, not knowing any kind of weapon or device that could make a mark like this. Wait a minute … were those words there? What the hell _was_ _this_?

Dean's breath caught in his throat as he realised that it wasn't words he was seeing but letters and numbers (C.R.E.E.D.S, below it were the numbers 666, followed by the letters SL). Dean's jaw clenched tightly in anger as he realised that some bastard had fucking _branded_ his little brother.

Dean had no idea what the letters and numbers actually meant – although 666 wasn't hard to figure out; child of Satan … Demon Spawn – but that didn't mean that he wasn't going to track down the son of a bitch who had done this and give him a damn _branding_ of his own!

Dean knew that it wouldn't have been either Stewart or Adams who had done this – they may be warped in the head – but Dean knew that neither of them had the stomach to do something like this … of course, that didn't mean that Dean wasn't going to _ask_ them about this. And if either of them had done this … But Dean instinctively knew that it was Dead Fucker who had branded his younger brother. This seemed like something _he_ would do.

C.R.E.E.D.S was obviously an acronym for something … some kind of company or organisation … And Dean had already figured out that 666 meant Demon Spawn … so, what the hell did SL mean? Were they initials? Were they Dead Fucker's initials? Had he fucking branded _his initials_ into his baby brother's flesh?!

God damn it, that son of a bitch was a dead man once Dean finally tracked the fucker down! Dean's teeth were clenched so hard that his jaw was starting to ache, his hands grasping the steering-wheel so tightly that they were white as Dean tried to breathe through his rising anger, chancing another glance at his little brother.

Dean's eyes narrowed dangerously, noticing a deepening bruise in the middle of Sam's neck. Was that a fucking _hickey_?!

Dean swore violently under his breath, vowing to kill Dead Fucker ten times over for not only _branding_ his brother but also _marking_ him as if he thought Sam _belonged_ to him! "Never going to fucking happen!" Dean growled harshly, his heart pounding in rage. Sam didn't _belong_ to _anyone_ … least of all that fucktard!

If anyone had any rights to Sam, then it was Dean. Dean _had_ raised the boy after all. If Sam were to belong to _anyone_ , it would be Dean. Sam was more than a younger brother to the Hunter, he was … like Dean's son. And much like Dean would with any child – but especially Sammy – Dean would fight to protect them from the evil of this world because they were innocent.

In all of the years Dean had hunted either with his father, Caelan or Sam, Dean would _always_ protect the children above anything or anyone else – even at the cost of his own life! – in order to stop the evil from entering their lives like it had done with him and Sammy.

Sometimes Dean failed … and children died; but Dean would make damn sure that the evil son of a bitch who had hurt those children had died _screaming_ in agony and would _never_ be hurting anyone else ever again!

Now, as Dean's "mother" and big brother instincts kicked in, Dean knew that a lot of blood was going to be spilt over this. Because _nobody_ … fucking _nobody_ branded and marked _his_ baby brother like this and expected to live a healthy life!

 **DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW**

Peter Stewart exchanged an anxious glance with Hank Adams, sensing the serious attitude that had come over Hagen, even though his body language portrayed nonchalance. "What is it you want Hagen?" Peter asked, all trace of his fear gone now as he could almost _smell_ the desperate aurora surrounding Hagen, knowing that he could use this to his advantage.

"You need to contact your sister," Caelan said, seeing the look of surprise enter Peter's eyes. "Tell her that you have Hunter's coming in that require medical assistance but his injuries and condition needs to remain out of the "public's eye", if you get my meaning,"

Peter nodded, recognizing the Hunter's code word for what it was. No police or authorities involved. Peter could get on board with that since the last thing in the world he needed was to have his family's name associated with drugging, kidnapping and torture. He'd be the laughing stock of the Hunter's community! And his father would be pissed …

Caelan's eyes fixed upon Peter's holding his gaze. "Dean has to stay with Sammy throughout _everything_. If Sam is left by himself for even a second … I will have no problem in informing Lizzie of _your_ _involvement_ in Sam's condition."

Caelan couldn't help the brief smile that graced his lips when he saw Peter gulp visibly at his threat. Peter may not care what anyone else thought of him, but if there was one person in this whole world whose opinion meant anything to him then it was it was his older sister's Elizabeth.

"I can do that," Peter agreed before he smirked slyly. "But in order for me to ring her … you're going to have to untie me."

Caelan closed his eyes briefly, considering the odds of Stewart's request. If it was a one on one fight and a fair one, Caelan had no doubt in his mind that he could beat Stewart with both arms tied behind his back.

No, that wasn't the issue. The issue was that Stewart was a sneaky, cunning son of a bitch and if he was smirking at Caelan like that it meant that he had already formulated some kind of plan in order for him to gain the upper-hand.

But Caelan realised that he didn't have any other option other than to concede to Stewart's request. Caelan opened his eyes and gave the death-glare to both Hunters, inclining his head slightly in agreement to Stewart's suggestion. "But you try _anything_ Stewart and so help me, I will knock you into next week!" Caelan warned, his brown eyes deadly serious.

"Deal." Peter agreed, grinning broadly now. Step one of gaining leverage over Hagen was complete, now he just had to work out how he was going to get both himself and Hank away from the careful, watchful eye of the younger Hunter and out of this nightmare of a situation his former _friend_ had left them in.

 **CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH**

The sound of Dean's phone ringing brought Dean out of his dark thoughts of vengeance and violence, Sam stirring slightly as Dean quickly grabbed his phone and held it between his head and shoulder, quietly soothing Sam with his free hand by squeezing the back of the kid's neck gently but firmly, noting that Sam stopped squirming at his touch and relaxed almost instantly.

"Caelan, what's the deal man?" Dean demanded, keeping his hand upon his brother's neck as he glanced out at the road ahead of them. "Everything good?"

"Yeah, everything's good Dean," Dean heard Caelan reply, his tone tired and slightly annoyed as he walked Dean through the plan step by step.

Dean nodded in between his friend's pauses, even though Caelan couldn't see Dean's acknowledgement. "That sounds good." Dean said approvingly after Caelan had relayed all of the details. "And I'll be able to stay with Sam?"

"Yeah, that's no problem Dean. That was actually easier to organise than not having the damn authorities involved!" Dean couldn't help but notice his friend's irritation spike up a level at that comment, his voice almost a low growl before Caelan let out a long sigh, calming himself as much as he could before he continued to reassure Dean.

"Don't worry Dean, everything's covered. No cops, all the discretion and privacy that you guys will need and you'll be able to be with Sam throughout everything … even surgery if it comes down to that. Trust me dude, I've got your back."

Dean felt a soft smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "I never doubted that for a second Cal!" Dean responded quickly, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb his younger brother beside him.

"How's the kid doing?" Caelan sighed and Dean had no trouble in detecting both exhaustion and guilt within his friend's voice.

"He's … " Dean paused, trying to find the right words to both reassure and not lie to his best friend of eighteen years. "He's _quiet_ dude, but trying to hold it together."

"Damn!" Caelan cursed softly. "I was hoping we could talk some damn sense into him before he started doing this."

"Don't worry; I'm not going to let Sammy push me too far away. I vowed that it would _never_ get to that point again and I meant it."

"Yeah I know. Just … watch him Dean and don't … wait till he's ready to talk, okay?"

"What? You don't think I know how to look after my own brother now?" Dean said, but there was no heat behind his tone or words, more to lighten the mood and stop this conversation before it drifted into dangerous chick flick territory.

Caelan laughed. "That is actually one job you definitely _know_ how to do, man!"

Dean smiled gently at Caelan's subtle vote of confidence with Dean concerning Sam's well-being. "You know, if I'm going to get Sam through this without tearing out my own hair in frustration because of how damn stubborn and obstinate my kid brother can be at _avoiding_ things … I … _we_ are going to need you as well dude."

Caelan was silent a moment before Dean heard a low chuckle over the line. "Of _course_ you'll need me Dean. And I already told you that you couldn't handle this by yourself, remember? You get too … _emotional_ when it comes to Sammy."

"Oh please!" Dean snorted. "I don't get emotional. I'm not some damn chick, you know! It's more like … protective brotherly instincts." Dean clarified, his smile widening at his friend's reply. "Yeah, whatever you need to tell yourself so you can sleep at night!" Dean shot back. "How far away are you from finishing up there Caelan?" Dean asked, teasing gone from his voice now, silently asking Caelan if he was okay or needed back-up.

"Don't stress Dean," Caelan told Dean, his voice a tad _too_ cheerful and confident for Dean's liking. "Caleb's about five minutes out. Just have to burn this place to the ground and then I'll be good to go. Maybe … two hours tops. Although I plan to be out of this place ASAP, because being around these two clowns is really starting to test my patience!"

"You have more patience than me." Dean chuckled fondly. "I think I would have killed them by now!"

"Oh don't worry Dean, it's not like that thought hasn't crossed my mind! Looks like Caleb's coming now man. Take care of the kid and I'll talk to you soon."

"Of course I'll take care of Sammy," Dean whispered, Caelan being the one to end the call rather abruptly. Dean glanced over at his brother, a tender, protective smile upon his rugged features. "That _is_ my job after all; to take care of my pain in the ass little brother!"

 **DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW**

Caelan quickly ended the call to Dean, hoping that Dean hadn't picked up on Caelan's sudden nervousness at the sound of unfamiliar vehicles coming toward him. He'd told Dean that it was Caleb, but this definitely wasn't Caleb's Ute.

Caelan shielded his eyes in order to get a look at the strange cars as they advanced. The first thing he noticed was that there were at least two of them … maybe three … and they were dark coloured cars and too flashy for any Hunter that Caelan knew.

Wait a minute … was that a damn _limo_?!

Caelan's puzzled frown immediately turned to sweep Peter Stewart with an accusing stare. Before he could even comprehend what he was doing, Caelan strode toward the smirking Hunter and pushed him up against the Ferrari 360 where his "silent" partner was yelling at Caelan to release Peter or he was going to …

Hank's threat sounded upon deaf ears as Caelan struggled not to wipe that smirk from Peter's face with his fists. "What did you do?" Caelan growled, his eyes narrowed to slits, breathing hard to keep his rising frustration and anger in check. "What the fuck did you _do_ Stewart? Who did you call?"

"Protocol Three," Peter replied smugly, lifting his arm so that Caelan could see a watch attached to his wrist. "Tracker," Peter supplied in answer to Caelan's unasked question. "What you see right there is the might of the organisation coming to rescue its fellow member. Protocol Three … we _never_ leave a man stranded."

 **TBC**


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy.

 **Special Note:** Special thanks to **Kas3y** for your kind reviews. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**

Dean was just manoeuvring the Impala into a park round at the back of the hospital when Sam came too with a start. His eyes were blown wide with fear, swinging his arms around wildly as if fighting off an attack before his dislocated shoulder became known and Sam shouted out a violent string of curse words, his expression once more contorted with pain, holding his breath as if that could somehow take his suddenly all-consuming pain away as he slumped against the seat, his body trembling with pain, his face losing all colour, becoming a sickly shade of white.

"Easy Sammy," Dean said, not surprised when Sam jumped at the sound of his voice. Dean wanted nothing more than to comfort his brother, but Dean knew that any touch – even from him – would send Sam over the edge and into a full-blown panic attack. "You're okay little brother … you're safe,"

Sam blinked furiously turning to rid himself of the terrible, disorientating feeling that consumed him, looking around in a blind panic, not recognizing where the hell they were. If it wasn't for Dean's strong, calm, soothing voice beside him, Sam would have already bolted from the car in a mad dash to get to somewhere safe; somewhere where he was no longer in constant pain, surrounded by memories and strange voices of violence … and torturing pain and … oh God no! Not the box! Please God, no, anything but the box!

"Sam … Sam! Sammy!" A familiar gruff voice said in a raised voice, the feel of hands upon his shoulders and a hard shake – not hard enough to cause pain but more to gain his attention – had Sam blinking frantically as he struggled to get free from the gentle but firm grip upon his shoulders.

"Nah … no! Get off! Get off of me!"

Sam felt the hands lessen their grip upon his shoulders before strong arms were embracing him and holding him in place, that familiar voice speaking low and soothing into his ear. Sam fought to get free from the hold but after a few seconds he realised how useless it was, his body sagging limply into the embrace, feeling helpless, bitter and wishing his big brother was here.

Dean's heart almost stopped beating when his brother tried to open the Impala's door, trying to escape from whatever nightmare image his little brother was envisioning right now. Realising that voice alone wasn't getting through to Sam and not wanting Sam to hurt himself any further by running off to wherever the hell his brother thought was safe; Dean threw caution to the wind and wrapped Sam up within his embrace, holding his brother still even though Sam managed to get a few solid hits upon his jaw with his elbow, tears building within the corner of his green eyes as he noticed just how freaked out and terrified his brother was.

"Ssh, easy Sammy. You're okay, you're safe little brother. I've got you. You're safe now, I promise." Dean repeated his mantra over and over hoping that his words, voice touch would find a way to break through to Sam's paralysing fear, because seeing his baby brother like this … it was slowly stripping Dean apart piece by piece, his guilt made one hundred times worse because Dean should _never_ have allowed this to happen to his brother!

Dean had worked so hard to protect this kid from things that could hurt him, so that Sam would never be this scared to not even recognize his own brother's voice or touch. Damn! Dean had failed majorly with that mission!

"I've got you Sammy," Dean murmured, slowly tracing out Sam's name with his finger upon Sam's shoulder. "Ssh, I've got you now baby brother. You're safe, you're safe now Sammy."

Within minutes, Dean felt Sam's body begin to relax within his embrace as he finished off the last letter of his own name and slowly pulled back enough so that he could look his brother in the eye. "Hey little brother," Dean said softly. "Are you back with me now?"

"Yeah … I think," Sam said slowly, the last residue of his terror slipping completely away from him, blushing slightly at the amount of concern he could see within his big brother's eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled, lowering his eyes in embarrassment.

Two years apart and Sam had already managed to freak out a total of three times in less than twenty-four hours. Man, Dean must be so damn proud of his little brother! Sam couldn't help the sarcastic comments from his mind. He was acting more like a frightened child than a capable, independent adult.

"Sammy," Dean squeezed Sam's shoulders reassuringly. "Look at me,"

Reluctantly, Sam raised his eyes to Dean's, not able to ignore the commanding tone in his brother's voice, years of listening to and having absolute trust with his big brother to be able to protect him and keep him safe automatically had Sam meeting Dean's gaze, although he couldn't help but bite upon his bottom lip self-consciously.

"You have nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about okay little brother?" Dean told him, keeping Sam's gaze until he knew the words he had spoken had registered within his brother's mind.

"Okay, thanks." Sam nodded, grateful to have a big brother like Dean. Dean always seemed to know when the right time was to be able to tease and make fun of Sam in a brotherly good-natured way or when it was the time for being serious, no mocking, only unconditional love and support.

"No problem geek boy," Dean grinned, giving one last final squeeze before removing his hand from the back of Sam's neck. "You know where we are?"

Sam nodded shyly. "Hospital?"

"Yep. Think you're ready to go in there so we can put you back together again?"

Sam was about to agree – if a bit reluctantly – when he caught fresh, angry looking marks upon his brother's jaw. "Shit Dean … did I _do_ that?"

Dean's smirk remained relaxed and easy, shrugging indifferently. "Not your fault Sammy. I should've remembered what you're like when you wake up in that confused and disorientated state. It's my fault for getting in the way of your elbow!"

Although lame, Sam couldn't help the short bark, bitter laugh at his brother's comment, knowing that even if he didn't deserve it, Dean had forgiven him for marking his face.

With a weary, anxious sigh, Sam nodded to Dean to let Dean know that he was ready to exit the car and enter the hospital. The sooner they got this over and done with, the sooner Sam could work at trying to forget that this day had ever happened!

 **DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW**

Fuck!

Peter laughed at Caelan's obvious unease. "You have two choices Hagen; set both of us free, run like hell and hope we don't catch up and _kill_ you or … surrender to the organisation and let them help you to … see the errors of your ways. You have roughly five minutes to decide – maybe ten – what you're going to do before they get here and then the choice will be taken out of your hands."

Caelan swallowed hard, knowing that this sneaky son of a bitch would try _something_ but when he handed Caelan back his phone without trying anything, Caelan had _stupidly_ let his guard down and now … now Caelan was going to have a handful of … hell, Caelan didn't know if this _organisation_ was made up of Hunters or humans or … something less than human (witches, vampires, the list was endless!).

The one thing Caelan knew for sure was that he couldn't stay here and fight this many – possible – Hunters. His only viable option was to let Stewart and Adams go while he tried to make a hasty retreat without becoming caught or being killed.

Caelan frowned as Stewart's second option finally filtered through to Caelan's panicked mind. "Wait … by the _organisation_ helping me to see the error of my ways … does that mean _brainwashing_?" Caelan's eyes widened slightly as another thought occurred to him. "Oh God, is that what you _bastards_ did to Sammy? Did you fucking try to _brainwash_ him?"

Stewart shrugged in nonchalance, looking almost bored. "Well, no. I didn't _personally_ participate in the … _reconditioning_ of Sammy Winchester, but I did hear that it was a success and that he was … cured."

 _Cured_?!

Caelan's rage bubbled closer to the surface just itching to pound some sense into the cocky, arrogant Hunter before him when he heard Adams' soft, demanding plea and his attention immediately diverted to the other Hunter who was still securely bound within the back seat of the Ferrari.

"What did you _say_?!" Caelan demanded, keeping Stewart up against the car with his forearm as he moved a little to his right so he could see Adams more easily.

"I said; you _need_ to take us with you!" Hank's light green eyes were wide and full of panic. "Pete … fuck Pete … you've just assured our deaths!"

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?" Peter demanded hotly. "I'm _saving_ us, you ungrateful ass!"

Hank swallowed a large lump within his throat. "Pete … have you forgotten what happened to the last person who initiated Protocol Three?" Hank asked in a low, frightened voice. "While it's true that they never leave a man stranded … sometimes, in order to make the problem "disappear", everything and _everyone_ involved in the situation gets eliminated. Peter, they're not coming here to rescue us. They're coming to destroy us!"

 **CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH**

The short walk from the Impala to the hospital's back entrance left Sam pale, shaking and sweating all at the same time, Dean's arms around his waist the only thing stopping Sam from crumbling to the ground in sheer agony, breathing hard, his head hanging low as he bit upon his lip to keep from either whimpering or screaming in pain.

The sound of a new, unfamiliar voice startled Sam and he could feel his body tensing in natural reflex. If he had to; he'd make this broken body run!

Dean tightened his grip about his brother, knowing by his brother's tenseness that Sam was getting ready to flee. "Easy little brother, you're okay; no danger here, just someone to help you, okay? Trust me Sammy, you're safe." Dean whispered soothingly into his brother's ear as he pulled Sam closer toward him protectively, trying to relax his own anxiousness, knowing that if he was tense or upset, Sam would automatically pick up on that.

"Dean Winchester, I presume," A petite, dark-haired woman inquired, her tone both friendly and business-like at the same time. "I'm Doctor Elizabeth Cox, but you can call me Liz. Any friend of my brother's is a friend of mine." She smiled brightly as she took in the two Hunters before her. And despite how exhausted they looked, Elizabeth could tell that they were definitely good-looking men … especially the shorter one. Something about men with green eyes turned Elizabeth's mind to mush. If she wasn't a married woman …

Elizabeth coughed, returning her thoughts to the present, a slight blush creeping over her checks as she noticed the man with green eyes staring at her intently. "I hear you boys need some discreet medical assistance, no public eye and to be together throughout the whole procedure?" she asked, trying to maintain her professional attitude but this man's gaze was intoxicating and intrusive at the same time.

Flicking his eyes down the length of her body and back up to her eyes again and Elizabeth could see the green eyes growing softer, obviously liking what they saw.

Damn! Elizabeth bet this man could teach her some new tricks … married! Elizabeth reminded herself, abruptly cutting off her own natural attraction toward this man. She was a married woman, damn it! And their Doctor! Get your mind out of the gutter and act like the professional woman that you are! She scolded herself.

Dean watched an array of emotions flicker through the woman's expressive blue eyes, trying to stop the smirk that wanted to spread across his face as he realised that if he wanted to … he could so get this woman in the sack! But there were more important things to worry about than his possible sexual victories. Sammy needed help.

"Yeah," Dean said, his expression relaxing when he realised that this woman posed no threat to them, when she had uttered the Hunter's code words for no police or outside interference. "My brother Sam, he … he needs help."

Elizabeth smiled, her heart settling back into her chest once the scrutinizing look of _Dean's_ eyes left her to indicate his brother standing beside him. "Okay, let's get him inside and treated, shall we?"

 **DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW**

Peter's eyes bulged slightly at Hank's words before he scoffed loudly. "They won't destroy me!" Peter declared confidently. "My father provides them with too many _donations_ for them to even _try_ and kill me. If they tried anything so _stupid_ , my father would –"

"Pete, don't you get it?" Hank demanded, his tone almost desperate as he tried to convince his stubborn friend of the impending doom that threatened them. "If …" he glanced quickly at Caelan, assessing his options before he shrugged. If they really were coming here to kill them, then what was the point in keeping the organisation's secrets?

"If _Levi_ was willing to leave us here and take the rap for what _he_ did to that kid; what the hell makes you think that your father … or mine for that matter, are even still _alive_? Don't you think our fathers would have intervened by now if they could?"

Peter frowned, admitting that Hank's words made some kind of sense, but to incapacitate or kill their Dads and to have the audacity to try and destroy them … it made no sense to the cocky young Hunter. They had devoted their _lives_ to the organisation and to have them try and … _eliminate_ them …

No. It wasn't possible. _They_ wouldn't do that to him, to his _family_. The Stewart name demanded respect, loyalty and trust. It made no sense for the organisation to try to _do_ something like this.

Hank let out a sigh of frustration as he quickly moved closer to both Peter and Caelan. "Pete," Hank dropped his voice, trying to squash the fear inside of him, no longer attempting to hide the other side of himself because of Caelan's presence. They had no more time for games. Hank had to convince Peter of his words, and there was only one way that he knew how to do that.

Hank met Caelan's eyes, trying to portray the honesty and sincerity of his words to the other Hunter. "Let me out Hagen; I promise I won't try and escape or try to make a move on you. Besides, there's not much I can do with my hands handcuffed behind my back, right?"

Caelan hesitated, knowing that there was still a lot he could do even while _handcuffed_.

"Please … Caelan; I give you my word that I won't try _anything_. And after we get away from here, you can … do whatever you have to do to make yourself feel safe around me. I just … I don't want to _die_ here … not like this."

Caelan searched the depths of Adams' light green eyes and reluctantly opened the door so that Adams could get out, but not before Caelan shot Adams a dark, menacing, warning look.

Hank nodded in reply to Caelan's unspoken threat, scrambling out of the car as he stood before Peter, Caelan eyeing him suspiciously, warily. Hank ignored Caelan, catching Peter's eyes before he moved forward and locked his lips upon Peter's, kissing him hard and passionately before he pulled back and placed his forehead against Peter's.

"Pete, baby, _please_ believe me when I tell you that if we don't leave _now_ , we are going to _die_ here!"

Peter's eyes lost the cocky and arrogant nature that was part of his genetic make-up to stare up at Hank with obvious love and affection. "Okay," he replied, almost drowsily, licking his lips in contentment. "Okay Hank, whatever you want."

Hank breathed a sigh of relief before turning to face the shocked expression upon Caelan's face. "Caelan, can you _please_ get us out of here before they get here?"

Caelan blinked stupidly a few times before his Hunter instincts kicked in and he nodded. "Get in." He ordered gruffly, shutting the door behind the two Hunters as he scrambled into the driver's seat and ignited the Ferrari's engine.

Although Caelan would _never_ admit it to Dean, he felt a thrill race through him at the prospect of being able to drive this car.

Caelan put the car in gear and gunned the engine. "Okay, let's see what this beauty's made of!" Caelan said under his breath before he bolted out of the abandoned car park with a squeal of tires and an excited grin spread across his face as he roared away and sped quickly away from the building of horror shows and the looming threat that was advancing toward them.

 **CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH**

Blinking the blood from his eyes, Sam shook his head slightly to get his bearings, vision blurry, smoke spiralling from the bonnet of his car, confused and disorientated about where he was and what the hell was happening.

Car accident, Sam's mind supplied, filling in the blanks from what his eyes were seeing. Oh God, if he'd been in an accident, then where the hell was Dean?

Sam tried to turn his head to check the passenger seat but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make his body obey his command to move his head. Okay, this was weird. Why the hell couldn't he move his head? Was he possessed or …

An intense feeling of rage filled him as he focused upon a black truck that was upturned on its side, wheels still spinning as if the occupant in the driver's seat still had his food upon the accelerator.

Before Sam could even process what he was doing, Sam found himself exiting the car, striding toward the over-turned black truck, blood, vengeance and violent images flickering through his mind, muttering violent oaths and curses toward the occupant in the truck – who he _knew_ hadn't even had a chance to exit the vehicle and flee from him once again.

With growing horror, Sam came to a startling revelation that if the occupant of the vehicle wasn't dead already, then Sam would have no problem in killing that person himself.

No!

Sam tried to force his body to back away from the black truck, something about it feeling familiar to Sam even through his freaked out, panicked thoughts of denial at what he was about to do.

Sam ripped the truck's door open with enough force to almost yank it off its hinges, reaching in to grab the occupant and haul his ass out of the truck, slamming his body up against the side of the truck.

"Where is _he_?" Sam hissed, his voice filled with venom. "You tell me where the hell my father is right now or I'll kill you where you stand!"

Sam froze, familiar dark eyes locking onto his own, the same flippant smirk that Dean did so well, copied from the man who Dean had tried to emulate in his everyday life appeared upon his lips.

Dad?!

 **TBC**


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy.

 **Special Note:** Special thanks to **kandilyn** and **Kas3y** for your kind reviews. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO**

"Well, that would depend," John replied evenly, feigning being relaxed even though Sam could detect by the slight crinkles in John's eyes and the grimace underneath his smirk that John was anything _but_ relaxed. And going by the subtle "tells" John was exhibiting, Sam knew that his Dad was in pain but was desperately trying not to show any weaknesses in front of Sam.

"Depends on what?" Sam demanded, his patience nearly non-existent now, anxious to retrieve his father and get the hell out of here.

"If your Dad was the son of a bitch who tried to kill me, then … his dead body is in the back of my truck." John answered calmly … too calmly if Sam knew his Dad. He had something planned, that was for sure.

"You _killed_ my _Dad_?!" Sam yelled, infuriated beyond belief now. "You think you have the _right_ to kill _my Dad_?" Sam pulled a knife from his jacket, knife held tightly within his left hand. "Let me show you what happens to _anyone_ who hurts _my family_ ," Sam whispered in John's ear before plunging the knife into John Winchester's stomach.

Dad! No!

Sam bolted into a sitting position, trying to fight the calming hands he could feel upon his shoulders, trying to steady him, keep him in place.

"Sammy! You need to calm down right now or the Doc over there is going to give you something to put you under again. Please Sammy, calm down buddy. You're safe little man,"

Sam paused in his struggles, knowing the voice that spoke to him, knowing the touch of the hands that tried to hold him in place as well as to soothe him.

Dean!

Sam blinked and immediately his big brother's face morphed into Sam's view as Sam practically launched himself at his brother, burying his head against Dean's shoulder as he felt those familiar arms surround him, embracing him within the comfort and security of his fearless older brother's embrace.

"It's okay Sammy," Dean said, swallowing back his surprise as he tightened his hold about his younger brother. The last time Sam had launched himself at Dean like this was when Sam had been sixteen and had his heart broken for the first time (although Sam had _never_ openly admitted _that_ to Dean!).

"I've got you little brother, I've got you," Dean soothed, not liking the way Sam was trembling or the fact that he seemed to be reverting back to child-hood symptoms that had always alerted Dean's big brother protective instincts.

Sam shook his head, trying to bury his head deeper into Dean's shirt, trying to regain his out of control emotions. It had been nothing more than a dream, Sam tried to tell himself. Dad was probably on his way toward them right now. There was no way that his Dad could be in trouble, right?

But, that dream had seemed so vivid. And since Sam had already embarrassed himself in front of his brother countless times today, what would one more time matter? Better to be safe than sorry, right?

Sam pulled back from Dean, eyeing him carefully before Dean removed his arms from around Sam. "Dean … I …" Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly, deciding to take the plunge into crazy town.

If, on the off chance that Sam's dream had been _more_ than just a dream, then Sam owed it to his Dad to mention it to Dean so that if their Dad _was_ in trouble, they could get help to John as soon as possible. "Dean, I think Dad might be in trouble,"

 **SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW**

Caelan couldn't help but grin as he tore through the gravel road, deliberately staying off the main roads – at least until they lost the people that Caelan _knew_ had to be following them … because that's something Caelan would do in this type of situation.

They may have a ten minute lead on them – possibly twenty by the time they worked out their plan of action – but that wouldn't take them long to catch up. But by then, Caelan had to have ditched the car and …

Shit! Caleb!

"Fuck!" Caelan pulled his phone from his front pocket and quickly dialled his friend's number. The last thing in the world he wanted was to be responsible for sending his friend into a trap! He had to warn the other Hunter … especially since it was Caelan who had called him in.

"Caleb," Caelan sighed in relief, but was having a hard time keeping his own anxiousness out of his voice. "Shit man, it's a trap. You need to get out of there ASAP! The area is crawling with … _unknowns_. Not sure …" Caelan took a deep breath and let it out slowly, quickly regathering his scattered thoughts. He needed to stay level-headed and to think if he was to survive an encounter with this infamous _organisation_. "Will need to dump the car soon and proceed on foot."

"Hey!" Peter spluttered indignantly from the back seat, obviously beginning to regain his senses after Hank's kiss. "You are _not_ just _dumping my car_ Hagen! Do you know how much _money_ I have invested in this fine piece of machinery? You are not _dumping_ her like she's a piece of crap car that is so easy to get rid of!"

Caelan quickly glanced in the rear-view mirror, deciding that neither Hunter posed a threat to him at the moment as Caelan ignored them and continued to make plans with Caleb about a safe meeting place for _pick-up_ and probable _disposal_.

"Disposal?!" Stewart shrieked, wanting nothing more than to knock Hagen out; kick his ass out of the car and cruise off into the sunset; Hank by his side as they faced the unknown together.

Carefully; Caelan parked the car, the over-hanging trees and bushes masking the car's identity and hiding it from prying eyes for the time being. It wasn't great cover, but it didn't matter … just as long as it fooled them long enough so that the three Hunters could escape from here and plan their next move.

Yes, Caelan freely admitted that he couldn't in good conscience leave the other two Hunters behind to rot … He wasn't quite _that_ cold-hearted yet. They _were_ fellow Hunters after all; even after everything they had done, Stewart and Adams deserved to have their say. Plus Stewart and Adams would be able to provide good Intel on this … _organisation_ , who apparently had a Secret Agenda going on within the Hunter's community. It would be nice to _plan_ their next move properly, instead of running on gut instinct, having no idea who to trust and who not to trust. It would be nice to have a clear picture of who the enemy was and how they were going to be defeated.

"Right, come on, let's get going you two," Caelan held the rear door open and motioned the two Hunters out with his gun; but it wasn't until Hank nudged Peter that Peter finally decided to move and leave the vehicle, Hank following close behind him.

"Turn around," Caelan told Hank, procuring the handcuff keys from his pocket as he released the handcuffs from Hank's wrists. "Right, I don't _know_ what you guys are going to do, but as for me, I am getting out of here. Normally, I'd be taking you guys back with me to get some answers … and maybe to throw in a few punches for what you both did to Sammy … but I have neither then time nor the man power to force you guys to go with me."

Caelan spun around to leave before he stopped and faced the two Hunters once more. "Don't think this is over." Caelan warned them, his eyes narrowed to slits as he studied the two wannabe Hunters before him. "It may be a while, but the next time we meet … I _will_ have great pleasure in inflicting the same damage upon you that you inflicted upon Sam. I promised Sammy that you two wouldn't get away with this … and I keep my promises." Caelan announced darkly.

Once he was sure Stewart and Adams had gotten the message, Caelan walked away from the two Hunters, hoping to not see them again anytime soon!

"Wait!"

A hand gripped Caelan's arm and spun him around so that Caelan was face to face with Adams' panicked light green eyes.

"You can't just leave us!" Adams demanded, his tone bordering on desperation.

"Really?" Caelan raised his eyebrows in disbelief, pulling his arm out of Hank's grip, staring down the Hunter before him until Adams squirmed and blushed at Caelan's non-verbal accusations.

"Well … of course you can go and leave us," Hank stammered, suddenly looking very uncomfortable and vulnerable. "But, please Hagen, take us with you. If the organisation finds us … we're dead!"

Caelan hesitated. It was going to be hard enough for just _him_ to manoeuvre through this area without being detected, let alone having a klutz like Stewart to shield as well.

"Please," Adams begged, almost as if he could sense Caelan's answer as being negative in favour. Adams reached out to grab Caelan's arm once more as he ran a hand through his ginger-blonde hair. "If you let us come with you, I promise to answer any and every question that you may have about the organisation."

"Hank!" Stewart protested, aghast and appalled. "Protocol Six Hank! If you reveal _any_ information about the organisation, they have the right to … _evict_ you for treason. Hank, you make this deal and the organisation will kill you."

"They're going to kill us anyway!" Hank snapped back. "At least this way, we give Hagen and other Hunters fair warning before the organisation puts their major plans into action." Hank geld Caelan's gaze, his light green eyes wide, clear and honest. "If you save us Hagen … I will tell you what the organisation's plans are for Sammy Winchester."

 **CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH**

Dean blinked, his expression emotionless as Dean tried to process his brother's words. Dad? In trouble? Huh?

Urging himself not to burst into laughter – because he knew that Sam would take it to heart if Dean was to laugh at the moment – he managed to school his features into his "neutral" big brother expression … the look he portrayed when he wasn't entirely sure where Sam was going with this explanation or if he didn't know what was going on in that big brain of his! Sometimes Sam would surprise him in the direction that his mind worked.

The key here was not to ridicule _anything_ that Sam said – because let's face it; this kid had been too damn quiet since Dean had found him trapped in that box! – but also maintain a sense of realism and factual aspects that Sam could grab hold of if he found himself drowning in his delusions once again.

Dean searched Sam's eyes, not exactly sure what he was looking for, but he relaxed slightly when he noticed that Sam's gaze remained focused and clear. "What makes you think Dad's in trouble?" Dean asked quietly, instinctively knowing that now was not the time to mock his younger brother.

Whatever had jolted Sam into consciousness, causing him to cling to Dean in an almost desperate _need_ to feel safe and now had urged Sam to question the safety of their Dad, demanded Dean to take this seriously; because even if the kid's fears proved unfounded, then it was up to Dean to validate those fears and then to reassure Sam that he had nothing to worry about or fear. Sam shouldn't feel stupid for voicing his opinion … ever!

But first, Dean needed to know where his brother was going with this and why he thought their Dad might be in trouble.

"Because I had a dream," Sam said, and Dean could detect no false-hood within his brother's hazel eyes.

"Okay," Dean said, knowing that there was more to it than Sam just having a dream. This kid had dreams and nightmares all of the time and not since Sam was thirteen years old had Dean seen his little brother react like this after a dream/nightmare (clinging to Dean as if his life depended upon it!).

Sam blinked furiously as he realised how _stupid_ this was going to sound; and the longer Sam was awake, the more convinced he became that it had been just a dream – a nightmare – because of the recent torture session he had experienced. Still, Sam knew by the look within his brother's green eyes that Dean wasn't going to let this go without some kind of explanation.

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly; and before he could lose courage or back down out of embarrassment, feeling completely foolish, Sam proceeded to tell Dean of the dream that he'd had before he had awoken in a blind panic.

"I … it looked like a car accident," Sam began, his eyes lowering down to his hands, his voice low, hesitant, unsure now. "I had blood dripping into my eyes, and when I tried to see if you with me, I couldn't make my body obey my actions. In the next instant, I found myself getting out of the car and going toward an over-turned black truck.

I was so _angry_ Dean and that freaked me out even more because I have never felt such … rage before. Instead of calling for an ambulance, I pulled the person out of the truck, only to see Dad's eyes staring back at me."

Sam paused, lifting his eyes to meet his brother's. "The next thing I know is, I have a knife in my hand and without any hesitation or feelings of remorse I … I stabbed Dad in the stomach and then I woke up.

Dean … please tell me that it was just a dream. Tell me that you've heard from Dad and he's fine. Please tell me that I didn't murder my own father!"

 **DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW**

"You two stay here," Caelan told the Hunters as he cautiously got to his feet, ignoring the immediate argument from Peter Stewart, Hank gently trying to soothe his frazzled partner beside him. "Adams, do me a favour and kiss Stewart all ready," Caelan said, rolling his eyes at Stewart's pathetic argument.

At Caelan's statement, both Hunters turned to stare at Caelan, shocked by his words. "What?" Caelan demanded, not knowing what the hell the big deal was. "You think I'm shocked that you two are a couple? Well, yeah, I am actually but … it's none of my God damned business how you guys spend your free time. Just … you ever try to hit on me and I'll knock you out cold, deal?"

Caelan grinned at the flabbergasted looks upon the Hunters faces. "What do you know; there is something else that will shut Stewart up just as effectively as a kiss from Hank!" Caelan couldn't help but tease them before becoming serious once more. "Stay low guys; eyes sharp; don't let your guard down, okay? I'll be back once everything checks out."

Hank nodded, understanding Caelan's words even if Peter didn't. Caelan wanted them to watch his back and if it was a trap, then the two Hunters were to leave Caelan and escape. "Don't worry Hagen, I've got it covered." Hank said confidently, basically reassuring Hagen that if he was caught, Adams would tell the Winchesters; warn them of the organisation's plans to take over the Hunter's community; and the danger that both Winchester siblings were in, but especially Sam, so that even if Peter or Hank couldn't do anything to stop the organisation, then maybe the Winchesters could.

Although stopping them at this point would be next to impossible and definitely suicidal … but maybe they could throw a hypothetical wrench into the organisation's plans, slow them down a bit until they could come up with a more permanent plan of taking down the organisation.

"Good luck," Adams said, pulling a gun out, his eyes scanning the surrounding area for potential threats.

Caelan nodded his appreciation at Hank's non-verbal assurances as Caelan left the safety of the shrubs behind him and walked out into the open, proceeding with caution, toward Caleb's Ute.

God, Caelan really hoped he was right about Caleb not being involved in all of this; because if Caleb was a member … then they were all screwed!

 **CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH**

Dean couldn't help the shiver that raced through his body at the haunted look within his brother's hazel eyes. And while Dean could understand _why_ Sam had woken up the way he had, that didn't mean that what Sam had experienced or witnessed was nothing more than a dream.

Besides, it wasn't as if Sam had suddenly disappeared to kill their Dad and then transported back here, all the while remaining undetected and unnoticed by Dean's vigilant look out while his younger brother slept!

Sam would _never_ stab their Dad … or anyone! And that argument alone was enough to convince Dean that it had been nothing more than a dream; no vision, premonition or crazy ESP thing to worry about on top of everything else … thank God!

But by the look in Sam's eyes, Dean was going to need more evidence in order to convince Sam that what he had experienced had been nothing more than a dream. "Come on Sammy, of course you didn't murder Dad!" Dean scoffed lightly. "You haven't got a murderous bone in you kid!"

"Oh, really?" Sam cried indignantly. "Because last I checked … I _murdered_ lots of things Dean."

"Evil sons of bitches don't count Sammy," Dean replied dismissively. "Besides, all of this is a moot point anyway. Dad's fine Sammy."

"You think?" Sam asked hesitantly, desperately wanting to believe his brother, but the dream had been too vivid, had felt too real to be _just a dream_. "You think …" Sam coughed, blushing furiously, lowering his eyes once more. "You think you could maybe call Dad and just _check_? Please Dean; I'd feel a lot better if one of us actually heard Dad's voice."

"Sure Sammy," Dean said, automatically ruffling his brother's hair to lighten the suddenly serious moment, much like he would have done when they had been younger.

"Hey!" Sam protested weakly, trying to slap Dean's hand away from his hair, but there was no real strength or heat in either his hand or his words, his hazel eyes widening slightly before relaxing once more; exhaustion beginning to set in once more now that he knew his father's whereabouts were about to be accounted for.

"You should get some rest Sammy," Dean told his brother gently, seeing the unvoiced gratitude within Sam's eyes. "The anaesthetics are still in your system. It's okay if you need to sleep bro. Don't worry, I'll be right here when you wake up, promise." Dean said, his voice lowering to almost a whisper as he gently ran his fingers through his brother's hair … an action that had helped to soothe, calm and help Sammy go to sleep when he was having a restless night.

Dean was pleased to note that his particular method seemed to work just as effectively upon his twenty-one- year old sibling, much like it had when Sam had been eleven-years old. It was nice to see that some things never changed.

 **TBC**


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy.

 **Special Note:** Special thanks to **Mimmi85** and **Kas3y** for your kind reviews. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**

Dean waited until he was certain that Sam had fallen into a restful slumber before he retrieved his phone from his pocket and opened it up, scrolling down the list of names until he came to Dad's name.

Although not willing to admit it to Sam, Dean was more than a little anxious at not having heard from their Dad in the last four hours. If it hadn't have been for the text message two hours earlier, Dean would have been overcome by panic by now. Dean tried to curb the anxious, worried feeling that was gnawing at his stomach because his Dad was never known for his punctuality.

John Winchester was a man with a one-track mind. When he was involved in a hunt, it would consume his entire being until he had finished that hunt. Sometimes Dean would go for days – sometimes weeks – before his Dad remembered to check in with his boys. The longest Dean had gone without hearing from John had been four weeks; and Dean had almost lost his composure – and his mind – because he had become convinced that Dad was dead – and now, how did he care for Sammy? – and when John finally _did_ make contact with Dean, John had been irritated at Dean's missed calls – he had thought something was wrong with his boys – and had reminded Dean that he should only call John in an _emergency_ when John was on a hunt.

So, the fact that it had only been two hours since Dad's last communication – four hours since the phone call – shouldn't make Dean feel as uneasy as he did right now. But that was part of Dean's genetic make-up; he couldn't help but worry until all of his family members were home – it didn't matter if Dean had spoken to his Dad ten minutes ago! – he would still have that nagging, nauseous feeling within the pit of his stomach until his Dad had returned home in one piece. And this time was no different either.

With a heavy sigh, Dean waited until he heard his father's slightly irritated but gruff voice on the other end of the line; instead, Dean's call went unanswered, to the voice mail. Dean left his father a brief message, basically urging John to call Dean back ASAP so that Dean could inform John about Sam's condition.

Dean tried to put the worry he felt for John's well-being to the back of his mind, instinctively knowing that no matter where his Dad was or what he was doing, that John Winchester would be fine. Dad was always fine and Dean refused to let himself think any differently, because if he did … then Dean's walls and defences would crumble and fall, giving way to all of Dean's doubts and fears. Dean couldn't allow for that to happen. Not yet. Not while Sammy needed him to be strong. Dean could fall apart later, once he got Sam out of this hospital. Until then, he had to hold it together for just a little while longer.

 **DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW**

Caleb was _not_ a member of this secret organisation … thank God!

He listened to Caelan recount everything that he and the Winchesters had done and learned during the last – God, had it really been _that_ long? – ten hours; ever since Caelan had been awoken at four in the morning by the desperate phone call from Sam Winchester which had started this whole mess to begin with!

Caleb was shocked and appalled; the first thing he wanted to do was to teach both Stewart and Adams a lesson they would never forget for participating in a torture session with not just another _Hunter_ , but also Caleb's _friend_!

"Wait," Caelan laid a calming hand upon his friend's shoulder. "I know how you feel Caleb, believe me, but right now … now's not the time for this. We need to meet up with Dean and Sam, but … " Caelan glanced over at Stewart and Adams who were wisely hanging back from both Caelan and Caleb before turning back to his friend once more. "They've got to know about Stewart's sister at the hospital, right?"

"If they're as good as us and have done their homework on us, then yes; it would be safe to assume that this … _organisation_ … would know _everything_ about us."

"Wow. Thanks Caleb. Way to keep that optimism alive brother!" Caelan teased, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

"You know me Caelan; I'm just _full_ of optimism!" Caleb grinned, punching Caelan playfully on the arm before returning to the problem at hand. "Okay. So, why don't I go to the hospital and meet up with the Winchesters, while you and the … sadistic twins take off to a Hunter's Cabin? Then we can –"

"No!" Caelan interrupted Caleb sharply. "No Caleb, we are _not_ splitting up. Besides, how the hell do we know if the Hunter's cabin hasn't been compromised all ready? For all we know every Hunter in this _district_ might be loyal to this damn organisation!"

Caleb sobered quickly, his light brown eyes searching his friend's eyes for a clue as to what their next move would be. "What do you want to do then Hags?" Caleb asked softly, squeezing Caelan's shoulder in support and assurance when he saw the almost hysterical quality within Caelan's brown eyes.

Caelan closed his eyes, refusing to give into the hysterical laugh that bubbled inside of him. "I want to survive today so that I can track these bustards down one by one and make them pay for ever thinking that they could _hurt_ Sammy!" Caelan replied without hesitation.

"Okay," Caleb nodded. "Then, let's make that happen. Any ideas on _how_ we go about doing that?"

"Maybe," Caelan opened his eyes, feeling more calm and in control of his emotions now. No longer having to work against being out-numbered, Caelan felt relief that Caleb was by his side. "Told you this was big Hawkes. If you want to leave and not get involved in this, I completely understand – considering that I don't even _know_ what _this_ is! – then, you should leave now."

Caleb raised his eyebrows, glaring hard at Caelan before he crossed his arms in front of him, his features hardening into his "fucked off" expression.

"Chill dude!" Caelan said, holding his hands up in surrender. "I was just double checking; no need to get your panties in a twist!" Caelan teased, breathing a sigh of relief because he honestly didn't know if he could pull this off by himself. "Your plan to enter the hospital and connect with the boys is a good one, except I'll be your back-up … out of sight, of course."

"Why out of sight?" Caleb frowned. "Why don't you just come into the hospital with me?"

"I figure; that these guys already _know_ that I'm involved with rescuing Sam Winchester and questioning those two chuckle-heads about their involvement in the abduction of Sam and this organisation that these two obviously are affiliated with. I figure that if they spotted me, they would shoot me dead on the spot."

Caleb blinked, confused by his friend's deductive skills. Normally Caleb could follow Caelan's thought processes, but right at this moment, all Caleb could do was to stare at Caelan, confused.

"It's what I would do," Caelan admitted. "They don't know how much I know or if I know anything at all, but in order to protect their secrets … they don't have a choice in the matter. The will eliminate all five of us."

"Five?"

"Yep, five. Stewart, Adams, me and the Winchesters. It's the only way to ensure that all of their secrets remain secure and safe." Caelan paused, chewing on his lower lip, thinking of a plan that would allow all of the Hunters involved – Caleb included now – to escape this place and the reach of the organisation with their lives intact. There was only one person who could help to get out of this one. Damn, John was going to kill him when he found out. But Caelan no longer had a choice. He would deal with John's wrath _after_ they survived this.

"Right, this is what we do," Caelan began, deadly serious now, completely calm as he relayed this crazy, suicidal plan to his friend. It was simple enough … maybe too simple; and if Caelan, Stewart or Adams were spotted, then it was all over.

Their priority right now was to get to the Winchester siblings and get them out of that hospital before the organisation came for them and killed them. After that … then Caelan would call in a favour with a guy he'd hoped never to see again in this life-time! That was plan B. Plan A was much simpler and much less complicated than contacting _that_ guy. And Caelan hoped like hell that they could go with Plan A … because at least that way, John Winchester wouldn't have any reason to kill him!

 **CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH**

Shock, confusion, alarm, agitation, disbelief, horror, dismay, agony, fury, misery, wrath, burning red hot hatred assaulted Sam's entire being as he looked down upon the lifeless body of his father, feeling the tears streaming down his checks as Sam cradled his father's body in his arms and rocked backwards and forwards, a low, keening sound emanating from Sam, grief and rage fighting to be the dominate emotion within Sam.

It wasn't fair! How could this _happen_?! His father wasn't supposed to die … never! Not him! His Dad was invincible … this was _never_ supposed to happen … at least, not until they had gotten their revenge; not until they had avenged Mary Campbell's death.

This … this wasn't … Now what the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn't function without his Dad's orders … he couldn't … was this _his_ fault? Because of his obsession with that … Demon Spawn … had it ended up costing his Dad his _life_?

Sam threw back his head and let loose a cry of excruciating anguish; resentment, guilt, shame, hatred all burning inside of him, trying to consume him, feeling himself slowly begin to lose himself within his emotions to become one with his pain, his hatred, having no real morals or petty vendettas as he slowly succumbed to his out of control emotions.

It would be so easy to just give up now. It would be so easy to just let all of this go and end it all right here, right now!

But …

Sam sobbed as his eyes returned to his father's cold, dead body, knowing that all he really wanted was to have his Dad back! He would give _anything_ if his Dad would only wake up right now and tell him what to do!

Dad, please, what do I do?!

Gently, Sam traced the knife wound across his father's neck, his grief giving way to anger once more as he glared at John Winchester's body, lying on his side, one hand covering the stab wound, even while the blood seeped through his hand, his eyes blown wide and filled with shock and fear that he may actually lose his life here tonight; his breathing becoming more laboured, almost gasping now.

No, Dad, no!

Sam tried to urge his body to get up and go to his dying father; dump this … _stranger_ that he held in his arms, get to _his Dad_ and call for some help before it was too later …

But, just like before, Sam had no control over his body, no control over his limbs as Sam knelt in the dirt, holding someone he didn't know in his arms, glaring at John Winchester coldly, unmoved by John's weak attempts to stop the bleeding as he desperately struggled to hold onto his life.

No … no, body please move. Get up and help him! Help my Dad now! Now!

 **SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

Dean sat in a chair by his brother's hospital bed, acutely aware by the wrinkles upon his brother's brow and the way that Sam tossed his head from side to side, sharp moans of displeasure … bordering close to cries of anguish … that his baby brother was in the middle of one hell of a nightmare!

"Ssh," Dean whispered, running the back of his thumbs over the furrow-lines upon Sam's brow, trying to soothe him into a better dream, trying to guide him out of the nightmare that had claimed him. "You're okay Sammy, it's just a dream." Dean said, close to his brother's ear, hoping that the sound of his voice could reach Sam, even in his dreams! "You're okay little brother, I've got you. I've got you now."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief when Sam stopped thrashing, his cries fading, the lines across his brow receding into the background as Sam appeared to be sleeping peacefully once more.

Dean removed his hand from his brother's forehead and placed it upon his brother's arm, not wanting to lose physical contact with his sibling in case it somehow caused Sam to fall into another nightmare.

It was foolish, Dean knew, but this was the only way that he knew how to protect his brother. He couldn't physically enter Sam's dreams to help him slay the bad guys! All he could do was to keep trying to remind Sam that he wasn't alone anymore by a simple touch or a word; Dean hoped to keep his brother grounded in this reality.

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Even though Sam knew that John Winchester was dying – he would be dead in a matter of minutes, maybe half an hour at the most – Sam felt obligated to march over to John, take out his gun and empty his clip into John – possibly more than one clip – until he was positive that John Winchester had drawn his last breath.

But if Sam gave into his temptation; his temper; his _rage_ to get revenge by _killing_ John Winchester by shooting him, then John would get off too easy and Sam … Sam _wanted_ him to suffer for having caused the death of his father. He _wanted_ John's last hour to be filled with pain and misery. And Sam was going to make sure that he was there to watch every second of John's feeble attempts at prolonging his life; gasping for breath, trying to slow the bleeding, begging Sam for mercy …

Please! Sam couldn't help but scoff. As if he would _ever_ show this piece of shit mercy! Not after what he'd done! John deserved to die suffering!

And then, once John had breathed his last breath, Sam was going after his bastard sons. Get rid of the Winchester line once and for all!

No more Demon Spawn to obsess over once Sam killed him! And once that stain from his life was removed, Sam would pick up where his father had left off. He would hunt down all of the special children that The Demon had visited over the years … except, he wasn't going to save them. No, Sam was going to torture the fuck out of them for months on end until their bodies finally gave out.

And the first child he was going to start with was little Sammy Winchester … No. Maybe not. Now that Sammy was marked, Sam knew that he could find him anywhere at any time. Maybe … because he was so special … maybe little Sammy Winchester would be one of the last. Still, that didn't mean that Sam couldn't make the Demon Spawn's life complete hell until then!

Oh yes, Sam realised that he could have _lots_ of fun with this. Why should little Sammy get off so easily? No. Sam wouldn't give up, he would keep trying to _save_ the little Winchester … It was what his father would have wanted.

Sam placed his hand upon his father's neck, closing his eyes for a few seconds, feeling a sort of determined calm coming over him, his hand a little warm and tingly, sharing these last final moments with his father before he had to put the man to rest and –

Headlights and vehicle engines returned Sam to the present with a jolt. With a sinking heart, Sam realised that there was probably more than one vehicle and they were headed this way. In fact … was that a damn ambulance?

Fuck! Now what the hell did he do?

With a savage growl, Sam picked up his father's broken body and raced toward his relatively undamaged Ford Focus. "Damn you John Winchester!" Sam snarled, casting one last, longing look toward the oldest Winchester's body before he took off in the opposite direction, knowing that the sound of his engine would be masked by the other vehicle engines, not liking the way his engine struggled to keep the car moving. Hopefully the car could make it into the next town and then Sam would have no problem in acquiring another vehicle.

It didn't matter if John Winchester lived or died. Because Sam was determined that either way and no matter how long it took, he was going to be the one to get rid of the Winchester line once and for all!

 **SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

Dean felt his phone vibrate within his pocket as he casually removed his phone from his pocket, still keeping physical contact with his brother.

Unknown number …

Dean frowned, knowing the odds of this being a wrong number was extremely low considering that only _trusted friends_ had this particular cell number.

"Hello?" Dean answered the phone cautiously.

"Is this Dean Winchester?" A clinical, professional voice asked from the other end of the line.

"Maybe," Dean replied shortly. "Who the hell is this?"

"My name is Doctor Wayne Scott. I'm calling from …" This strange man's words were fading in and out of Dean's concentration, some words and whole sentences not even registering with Dean.

" … John Winchester is in a serious condition … possible stab wound and car accident … when officials arrived at the scene; John Winchester was the only person there."

"Excuse me?" Dean hissed, full concentration back on the phone call now as he peered anxiously at his brother's peaceful expression. Not wanting to wake him, in case this phone call caused Dean's temper to flare, Dean decided to take the phone call outside of Sam's room.

"Be back soon bro," Dean pattered Sam's arm consolingly before he got up from the chair and exited the room, standing just outside Sam's room, not willing to venture too far away from his little brother just yet. "Sorry Doc, what were you saying about John Winchester? I'm Dean Winchester, his son. Please, tell me … is my Dad all right?"

 **TBC**


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy.

 **Special Note:** Special thanks to **Mimmi85** for your kind review. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR**

"Dean … son, it's me,"

" _Bobby_?!" Dean said both relieved and stunned to hear the older Hunter's voice who was more like an uncle to Dean. "What the hell are you –"

"It's a long story boy," Bobby chuckled. "Listen Dean, your Daddy's going to be all right. We got to him in time. He's in surgery at the moment, getting all stitched up."

"Bobby, was Dad _stabbed_?" Dean asked, shivering slightly at both Sam's words as he retold what had transpired within his dream of how he had stabbed their Dad, as well as the doctor's voice of a possible stab wound a few minutes ago.

"Yeah, looks like," Bobby sighed loudly. "We don't know who it was or why they did it … but I'm sure John will have answers for us once he's in recovery and off the morphine!"

Dean felt chilled to the bone at Bobby's words. His Dad had been stabbed … which meant Sam was right … which also meant that Sam's dream had come true … had Sam somehow given Dean the slip and …

Dean shook his head. No, that was impossible. Even if Sam _could_ teleport – which he couldn't – it would have taken far longer for Sam to have stabbed Dad and then come back here all without Dean not knowing … Yeah, somehow Dean didn't think that was possible!

Dean pushed that thought to the back of his mind – knowing that he would never reveal to Sam that Dad had been stabbed! The last thing he needed was for Sam to feel guilty about something that wasn't even his damn fault! – as he focused once more upon the older Hunter's voice. "I'll get Sam and we'll be there as soon as we can," Dean assured his surrogate uncle.

"No Dean, it's okay," Bobby told Dean, his gruff voice softening a little. "Your Daddy told me that Sam had to go to the hospital. You need to stay there with the kid. I'll stay here with your Daddy."

"You sure Bobby?" Dean asked, suddenly feeling relieved at Bobby's words.

"John's in good hands Dean. And I'll even promise _not_ to shoot him with rock salt this time, okay?" Bobby joked, but Dean could tell by Bobby's tone that he was also being serious. Bobby and his Dad may have issues, but Dean felt comfortable with leaving John in Bobby's capable hands until both he and Sam could get there.

"Thanks Bobby," Dean's bottom lip trembled, putting as much gratitude and feeling as he could behind those two words, hoping that Bobby would understand everything Dean was trying to tell him.

"Ya idjit," Bobby said fondly and Dean knew that Bobby had received Dean's message loud and clear. "How are you boys holding up?"

"We're …okay Bobby," Dean said, deliberately evading the truth.

"Right!" Bobby scoffed, immediately calling Dean out on his bluff. "Listen Dean, you just take care of your brother, understand? And once Sam is fit to travel, you boys – all _three_ of you – come meet up with us here or some place that we have all agreed on." Bobby paused. "Dean … what little your Daddy told me … you boys need to watch your backs, understand?"

"Yes Uncle Bobby," Dean replied automatically. "I know. And we are being careful."

"Good." Bobby breathed a sigh of relief. "I will keep you updated on your Daddy's progress. I expect the same report from you about Sam, got it?"

"Of course," Dean agreed, his concentration wavering once more when he heard his little brother screaming his name.

Shit! Fuck!

"Sorry Bobby, gotta go. I'll talk to you soon." Dean ended the call with Bobby and quickly entered his little brother's room, hoping to calm him down before he reached full-blown freak out mode!

 **DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW**

Once Caelan had five minutes to think about things, he came to the conclusion that he may have jumped the gun and he might not have to resort to such drastic measures as getting _that person_ involved.

Looking over at Stewart and Adams, he realised that he may be able to play this hand another way before he had to call in the big guns for assistance … plus, he _really_ didn't want John to have to kill him! That would be kind of … awkward.

But that would mean asking Stewart for another "favour". And after the last fiasco … Caelan was reluctant to ask, knowing that this time round if he asked Stewart for a "favour", then Caelan would "owe" him one in return.

As much as that sickened Caelan to have to help this fuck-head out later on down the track – _especially_ after what this mongrel had done to Sammy – Caelan knew that he didn't have any other options left.

He just hoped that Stewart hadn't been all talk about how _important_ he and his father were to this _organisation_. Of course, that would all depend on whether his father was still alive … Caelan hadn't forgotten Adams' words earlier about how this organisation was apparently now gunning for them.

Still, it couldn't make matters any worse if Caelan allowed Stewart to call his old man. Hopefully the old fart was still alive and could use his influence to call off these persistent fuckers who were now out to _silence_ them all because they had rescued Sammy from these sadistic fucks.

Caelan's gut was telling him that Stewart's father had been with the vehicles – or somewhere close, within their general proximity – that had approached the abandoned warehouse after Stewart had initiated Protocol Three; because what use would this … all powerful, all knowing … _organisation_ have for a damn _limo_? Caelan suspected that the limo had been for Stewart and Adams' benefit, letting them know that help was on the way.

Of course, if that was the case, why had Adams panicked and demanded to go with Caelan? Maybe he hadn't seen it … or maybe … maybe Adams _knew_ that they would get into trouble for being associated with such atrocious acts as drugging, kidnapping and torturing a fellow Hunter's kid; even if that kid _had_ left the hunting life for normal and was no longer considered a Hunter. Maybe it wasn't only the organisation's wrath that Adams was afraid of.

Regardless, Caelan couldn't concern himself with that. His main objective was the safety and well-being of his brothers – Dean and Sam – and to protect them from _any_ attacks from _anyone_ , no matter who the fuck they were and what the fuck they wanted.

Then he had to make sure that these sons of bitches would stop tailing them in order to try and "silence" them from discussing the organisations so-called secrets – not that they _knew_ any secrets to tell … apart from some of their members liking to _torture_ people – and finally, he had to burn down the warehouse, getting rid of any evidence that they might have unknowingly left behind.

"Give me five minutes Caleb and then we'll be good to go, okay?" Caelan told his friend a knowing looking passing between the two of them before Caleb nodded, his light brown eyes sharp and deadly focused.

Caelan couldn't help but grin, knowing that his friend had his back no matter what may happen.

With a determination Caelan honestly didn't feel, he strode over to Stewart and Adams who were huddled against a tree trunk, Adams' arm draped around Stewart's shoulders, Peter's head resting upon Hank's shoulder, both of them looking like lost, vulnerable children caught up in a game that they suddenly realised was _way_ above their heads.

Caelan stood in front of them, glaring down at them almost intimidatingly as he cleared his throat to get their attention. "Okay guys, here's the deal," Caelan began as he threw both of their phones at them, almost laughing at the identical shocked expressions upon their faces.

"Caleb and I are about to run back into the fire. This is as far as I can take you." He paused and looked at Adams knowingly. "After this, you guys are on your own … unless, of course, we can reach some kind of understanding."

 **CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH**

Sam's eyes flew open, gasping, gagging as the last residue of that strangely vivid dream left him as he blinked around the unfamiliar surroundings, not sure if he was still dreaming or if he was awake or maybe he was still in that God forsaken box … hallucinating …

"Dean!" Sam cried out, his voice weak and hoarse, even to his own ears as he struggled to move. He had to find Dean. Once Sam located Dean, he _knew_ that Dean would make it all better; he knew that his brother would save him.

"De'n!" Sam called out again, desperately trying to untangle himself, confused and disorientated, panic making his voice rise sharply. "Dee … where _are_ you?!" Sam was practically sobbing now. All he wanted was his big brother! Oh God, he had to get out of here!

Sam couldn't remember what had woken him, he couldn't remember _why_ he was so freaked out, why his heart was pounding so fast in fear that it felt as if it was going to burst out of his chest; he couldn't understand why he had this overwhelming urge to find his brother before it was too late! He didn't know why he was acting like a needy, emotionally stunted child having an anxiety separation attack from his big brother. Sam had been by himself for two years now, so why did he have this sudden _need_ … this overwhelming _desire_ to see Dean, to know _exactly_ where his big brother was?

"Dee!" Sam screamed at the top of his lungs before he could stop himself or reign in his panic. "Help me!"

The door to Sam's room opened and Dean stepped through the door, quickly reaching his distraught younger brother in three quick strides.

"Sammy, it's me. Calm down buddy, I'm here now, okay?" Dean placed a cautious hand upon his brother's shoulder, squeezing gently when Sam tried to dislodge Dean's hand, Sam's breathing beginning to pick up in tempo, gasping, struggling for breath now.

Shit!

Panic attack!

Without any conscious though, Dean placed his hands upon the sides of his brother's head and turned his head slightly so that Sam could look into his eyes. "Sammy, look at me," Dean commanded softly. "Little brother, I need you to calm down and look at me right now. Do you understand? Sammy, are you hearing me?"

Sam's breath caught in his throat and for one heart stopping minute, Dean wasn't sure if his brother would continue to breathe, but then Sam blinked, his large hazel eyes focusing upon Dean before he smiled brightly and the air left his lungs in a rush.

"Dean," he gasped, smiling happily before he lunged forward and embraced his brother tightly. "I knew you wouldn't leave me here by myself." Sam murmured, the panic and fear beginning to disappear now that he was held securely within his older brother's arms.

Dean only barely managed to hold in a grunt of surprise as Sam _flung_ himself into Dean's arms, snuggling into his chest like he would have done when he was a child and had just awoken from a particularly bad nightmare.

"It's okay Sammy," Dean reassured his slightly trembling younger brother. "You know I'd never leave you, right?"

"Right," Sam agreed, his eyes starting to droop in exhaustion once more. "Where were you anyway?" Sam asked over a yawn. "You said you wouldn't leave me here alone!" he pouted, sounding like a spoilt, stubborn little brat; but Dean knew that he only sounded and acted like this when he was scared.

"Sorry Sammy," Dean sighed apologetically. "I had to take a call real quick."

Sam frowned, feeling more like himself now as he pulled away from Dean and eyed him carefully, catching something within his brother's tone that he didn't like. "Is everything okay Dean?"

 **SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW**

"But …" Hank Adams spluttered, his eyes widening with fear. "You _promised_ to get us _away_ from them!" he said, his body beginning to tense, anger starting to cloud his features now.

"I didn't _promise you anything_!" Caelan said, his voice dropping lower to his dangerous level. "You guys are the ones that got us into this bloody mess! And I honestly don't fucking _care what happens to you_ if this … _organisation_ catches up to you!"

"We had a deal." Adams reminded Caelan quietly. "You help us escape and I tell you everything that I know about the organisation. Don't you want to _know_ what their plans are for Sam? Don't you want to know what their plan of attack is?"

Caelan gave Adams a cold, calculating stare, probing the man's light green eyes, seeing beyond the bravado front that he was putting on in order to try and intimidate and blackmail Caelan into helping him. All Caelan saw underneath all of Hank's posturing was a scared, uncertain little boy who was _bluffing_ in order to escape the punishment that he had coming.

Caelan relaxed, certain that he had the upper hand now, his half-smile deadly, now ready to call this man's bluff and to play his own hand. "Well Adams, it seems to me as if we've reached a stalemate, doesn't it?"

Caelan moved forward and crouched down in front of the two Hunters, his posture relaxed, undaunted, but his hands within easy reach and quick access to either his gun or his knife if he had to get to either of them in a hurry.

"Do you know what really _pisses_ me off Adams? The one thing I despise with a passion? No? Let me enlighten you. I don't care if you try to blackmail, intimidate or threaten me, that's fine; that's part of the Hunter's game, right? But when you blackmail, intimidate and threaten _my brothers_ … that's when I have a big problem. That's when I get _really pissed_ ; and that's when I become dangerous … unpredictable even. John Winchester _did_ have a hand in training me after all. And we all know what happens when someone is _stupid_ enough to mess with or threaten his family, right?"

Hank Adams gulped in the face of Caelan's wrathful, dark promise of violence, automatically tightening his hold about Peter Stewart in both fear and fierce protectiveness, suddenly realising for the first time that he had no one to back him up.

This Hunter wasn't scared of his father's prestige or wealth; this Hunter wasn't backing down and showing them the respect that their _names_ alone demanded; this Hunter was treating them like equals, calling them out on their bluffs and lies and basically _warning_ them that there would be consequences if they continued to play this game. This Hunter had no problem in letting his fists speak for him, not in the least frightened by them, and that made Hank shiver with dread. He couldn't use his influence to bully Caelan Hagen into doing what he wanted. He didn't already command Hagen's respect just because of who he was.

No.

If Hank wanted help from this Hunter … he'd have to ask for it … plead and beg for it. Caelan Hagen was through playing their bullshit games!

Hank sighed loudly, running his free hand through his ginger/blonde hair and Caelan couldn't help the smirk of satisfaction as he noticed the trembling within the old school Hunter's hand.

"Okay, okay … Caelan … you're right. I … I'm sorry. I shouldn't have … used Sam as a bargaining chip or tried to use him to blackmail you, as if he is some kind of _pawn_ in a game of chess. That was … wrong of me. But I was … I was desperate."

Hank closed his eyes and reopened them a few seconds later, his eyes suddenly clear, open and honest. "I was lying before. I _don't know_ what the organisation has in stall for either Sam or what their plans are in the long run. My Dad and me … we're not that high up on the organisation's rungs. I'm sure that they only put up with us because of Peter and his Dad's influence and generous donations … plus the fact that they _insisted_ that we were a part of this organisation."

Hank paused as he lowered his eyes, bitting upon his bottom lip nervously, shooting a worried glance toward Peter, guilt evident upon his features. "I'm sorry Pete," he said, his voice low and remorseful as he looked back into Caelan's eyes knowingly. "You saw it too, didn't you?" he asked Caelan.

 **CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH**

Dean appraised his younger brother, instinctively wanting to shield and protect him from the truth, but Dean could tell by the look within Sam's hazel eyes that Sam wasn't going to let him get away with deflection this time. Dean sighed loudly, deciding to be honest with Sam – to a certain degree – because this news … it involved him too.

"Bobby called," Dean revealed quietly. "Dad's … he's in hospital. He's okay." Dean quickly reassured his brother when he saw Sam open his mouth to protest. "Bobby seems to think that it was some kind of car accident. But by the time the ambulance and police got there, only Dad was at the scene. Don't worry Sammy, Dad's gonna be all right. He's the toughest son of a bitch that I know!" Dean grinned over at Sam, hoping to set the poor kid at ease, Sam's suddenly pale and sickly expression not going unnoticed by Dean.

Sam swallowed hard, the news of their Dad being hurt so badly that he was in hospital, instantly snapped Sam out of his mini freak out and back into full reality once more. "We should go," Sam told Dean, his jaw set in determination as he quickly swung his legs to the side of his bed, starting to pull out all of the lines that were attached to his body that both monitored and provided Sam's body with nutrients and pain medication as he required.

"Sam, stop!" Dean placed his hand on top of Sam's, preventing his brother from ripping out the lines in his arm. "Dad's _fine_ , Bobby's with him. The best thing we can do right now is to spend the night here, let you recover your strength and then … only if the Doc agrees, will I even _consider_ signing you out of here. Do you understand me?"

Sam frowned, shaking his head stubbornly. "But Dean, _Dad's_ in the _hospital_. We should be there!"

"You're in the hospital too, dude!" Dean snorted chuckling dryly. "Dad's in good hands Sam. And we _will_ be there once I'm sure that you're not going to fall apart on me the minute you get out of this hospital.

Sam's frown deepened slightly, suddenly feeling hurt by Dean's words. What the hell did that mean? Did Dean not trust him anymore? Did Dean really think that Sam was going to _freak out_ in public? Sam _could_ hold it together; he _could_ be professional and _do_ his damn job … but if Dean didn't trust him then …

Sam closed his eyes, his expression remaining neutral as he tried to force out the words that felt like acid in his mouth. But this was an unusual situation. Sam would be fine now that he had been treated. All of his bones were back where they belonged; left wrist in a cast, left arm in a sling to support his previously dislocated shoulder; right knee was bandaged, badly sprained and not broken or dislocated like Sam had feared; the deeper wounds, cuts, whip marks were cleaned and covered; his broken nose realigned and held in place by medical tape. So, their main priority _should_ be getting to their Dad.

And since Sam was stuck in the hospital, that meant it was up to Dean to get their Dad. Sam would be all right by himself – at least until he could sign himself out – and then he would be able to join Dean at a later stage.

"You should get to Dad Dean," Sam said, reopening his eyes. "I'll be fine here by myself." Sam forced a smile onto his lips, assuring Dean that he would be more than capable of looking after himself without having Dean to watch his every move.

"I'd feel much better if one of us was with Dad right now." Sam said, trying not to reveal how terrified he was at the thought of his brother leaving him right now. Sam had to man up and fight through his own fears. Their Dad needed them and Sam was determined that he wouldn't let their Dad down!

 **TBC**


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy. I have no knowledge or training in medical areas. I Have tried to keep everything as realistic as possible, but, as medical knowledge is not my area of expertise, just beware that there may be some mistakes in the next few chapters.

 **Special Note:** Special thanks to **Mimmi85** for your kind review. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE**

Caelan raised his eyebrows quizzically, urging Adams to elaborate on what exactly his question meant and what Caelan was supposed to have seen.

"When the cars were coming toward us at the warehouse … you saw it, didn't you? You saw the limo, right?"

Caelan nodded wordlessly, hearing Stewart's gasp of surprise in front of him.

"There was a _limo_?" Stewart asked, turning accusing eyes toward his friend, protector, partner, and lover.

"Yeah." Adams ruefully admitted, a blush heating his checks. "It was probably your Dad Pete, I know, but … he _couldn't_ find us there together Pete." He said, an almost desperate quality entering his tone.

"What the hell are you talking about Hank?" Stewart growled, his blue eyes flashing with anger now. "We could have been _rescued_. If we had stayed and not followed these two … imbeciles out into the fucking wilderness … we could have been home by now and … why Hank? Why did you _lie_ to me? Why did you tell me that Dad might be … dead? Why did you make me believe that our _lives_ were in danger?" Peter demanded, hurt and dismayed by his lover's deceitfulness.

Adams hung his head, ashamed at his lover's accusing, angry and hurt filled words. "I'm sorry Pete," he mumbled, his face turning a brighter shade of red. "But our lives _are_ in danger." He fixed Stewart with a heartfelt look. "Well … maybe not your life," he quickly amended. "If your Dad … Pete, your Dad _knows_ about us." Adams began earnestly, gently reaching out a hand to stroke Stewart's check lovingly.

"He … he wasn't happy. I overheard your Dad and my Dad arguing about it before … before we were called in to …" Adams shook his head, determined to stay on track. "Your Dad told my Dad that we could no longer be hunting partners. He wants you to "carry on" the family name and line and you can't do that with me. So, he said that we had to separate, and if we didn't … _I_ would be taken by the organisation to be … _reconditioned_ so that I would have no more "inappropriate" feelings toward you. I'm sorry Pete. I'm sorry I lied to you but … I couldn't bear the thought of being separated from you and –"

"Lies!" Stewart yelled, interrupting Hank as he slapped Adams' hand away from his face and jumped to his feet, his blue eyes flashing with rage. "My Dad would _never_ recondition you! You're family! Our Dads are _best friends_. You're just … _jealous_ because I've entered into a pre-arranged marriage. I can't believe that you would stoop so low as to _lie_ to me about all of this. How could you? I thought you loved me!"

Adams scrambled to his feet, desperately trying to pull his enraged lover into his embrace but Peter stopped him with a dirty, disgusted, hateful glare.

"You know I wasn't sure about this arranged marriage," Peter said, his voice shaking with emotion, obviously very hurt and disheartened by his partner's words. "But now … because of this _stupid_ stunt that you've pulled and your insanely jealous and neurotic ways … maybe it's _time_ for me to settle down with a _normal_ life and have a _normal wife_ and raise a couple of _normal children_."

"Pete, baby, _please_ ," Hank begged, his expression crumbled, completely devastated. "Don't say such things. _I love you_." Adams declared passionately, grasping Stewart's wrist as he tried to pull Peter into his embrace once more.

Stewart whirled around and hit Adams squarely upon the jaw, causing Adams to release his hold on Stewart's wrist as he lay sprawled on the ground, staring up at Peter, shocked and confused by Stewart's violent reaction.

"You and me … we're done." Peter said, his voice icy cold, surprisingly calm and steady, his blue eyes narrowed with anger and hate.

Hank held a hand to his jaw, his light green eyes wide with disbelief and pain. "You can't mean that." He said softly, refusing to believe that it was all over between them. "After _everything_ we've been through … you can't mean that!"

 **CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH**

"What?" Dean asked in surprise before Sam's words sunk in and Dean was adamantly shaking his head. "Hell no, dude, I am _not_ leaving you here!" Dean snapped, almost insulted by his brother's ludicrous suggestion.

"Come on Sammy, I'm not going to leave you when we haven't even caught all of the bastards who were responsible for drugging, kidnapping and torturing you! Do you know how long it took for me and Caelan to _find you_?! No way dude, I am _not_ going through that again!"

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation, even though he was secretly relieved at his brother's words, he couldn't help the independent streak in him that just wanted everything to return back to normal. He wanted to demand that Dean treat him like an adult instead of a child, forcing him to go to Dad instead of staying here with him … that's how Sam could achieve in working to put this whole horrible experience behind him and _never_ talk about this ever again … but, Sam couldn't help the irrational side of him that wanted Dean close. Whenever Sam was hurt or sick, the mere presence of his brother was enough to make Sam feel safe. And right now, after everything that happened, that's all Sam truly wanted was to feel safe again.

Still, that didn't mean he was going to give in to his inner child's demands. So, he kept pushing for Dean to go to their Dad because … because that's what Sam would normally do. And right now, as well as needing Dean, Sam needed a healthy dose of normality as well. So, he shut down the child's voice within him, insisting that Dean stay with him, as Sam called upon his stubborn nature that demanded to be independent and his _need_ to prove to Dean that he was still capable of doing things for himself.

"Dean, you just said it man, I won't be by myself; Caelan's here dude, he can _babysit_ me till I can sign myself out and then we can meet up with you and Dad." Sam touched Dean on his shoulder to get his attention. "Honestly Dean, I think I'm safe here at the hospital. He would have to be _suicidal_ to show up here! I honestly don't think we will be seeing him again anytime soon … or ever again." Sam smiled, a genuine smile this time and was rewarded by Dean's soft smile in return.

"Maybe you're right," Dean agreed, sitting down upon the side of the bed, throwing a casual arm about his brother as he pulled Sam hard against his side. "But I _promised_ you that I would be here with you throughout your entire hospital experience and I intend to keep my promise. Besides," Dean nudged Sam's shoulder gently and grinned playfully. "I wouldn't trust anyone else to look after you when you're hurt … not even Caelan! So, you can stop this stupid talk of me leaving you by yourself. You need to get some more sleep little brother, and maybe in the morning we can go and meet up with Dad, okay?"

"Okay," Sam said distractedly, too relieved that Dean was staying to really push for Dean to leave him here by himself. Not even Caelan – as close as he was to the family – could make Sam feel as safe as Dean could. And Sam _needed_ to feel safe … He didn't want to have the nightmares that he knew would be coming into existence as soon as he closed his eyes. He didn't want to be trapped in his own head, within a nightmare, unable to find his way out, reliving everything in extremely vivid detail … even though he wanted nothing more than to push this to back of his mind and never talk about it ever again!

Sam tried not to freak out at Dean's suggestion to sleep as he rested his head against his brother's shoulder, trying to get some sense of security, before the ultimate fear of being suffocated within his dreams forced Sam to speak out and voice his doubts to his older brother, even as he tried not to sound like an emotionally charged, needy child!

"Dean … I don't want to go back to sleep …" Sam shivered violently, knowing that if he went back to sleep then he would go straight back into the unremembered nightmare – or a new nightmare featuring Sicko torturing him! – he had awoken from.

"Ssh, you're okay Sammy," Dean soothed as he ran calming fingers through his baby brother's hair. "If you have any more nightmares, I'll wake you up, okay?"

"You promise?" Sam asked doubtfully, hating the way his voice sounded so pitifully, young and vulnerable.

"Promise." Dean smiled.

Sam nodded, stifling another yawn before he experimentally closed his eyes. "Okay Dean, I trust you." Sam said, his words beginning to slur as sleep came up to embrace him.

 **DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW**

Peter Stewart stood over Hank Adams, his nostrils flaring with anger, hurt visible within his blue eyes, clenched fists at his sides and as he raised a fist to strike Adams again, Caelan quickly got in between the two quarrelling love birds, placing a restraining hand upon Stewart's upper chest to hold him in place.

"Sorry guys," Caelan said in an authoritative, no nonsense voice. "I don't have time for your little lover's spat. Stewart, call your Dad and get this fucking _organisation_ off of our backs or so help me, I will beat you back and blue until you do what I say."

Out of the corner of his eyes, Caelan saw Hank get to his feet, growling in protective fury because of Caelan's threat. "And you …" Caelan whipped his eyes toward the possessive Hunter. "Stay the _hell_ out of this … unless you want me to call my friend over here and let him beat you up for what you did to _his friend_ , Sam Winchester." Caelan tilted his head slightly, not backing down or feeling intimidated by Adams' threatening growls.

If Hank Adams wanted this to be a fight, then by God, Caelan would let this be a fight, but not until he had guaranteed his brothers safety by removing the damned target from their fucking backs!

"Good choice," Caelan smirked when Adams finally backed down as Caelan turned back toward Stewart. "You tell your Dad to call off this organisation Stewart, get the target removed from our backs and all debts are repaid.

I won't come after you for what you did to Sammy and I will _try_ to keep Dean away from you for as long as is humanly possible. Or … if you don't do what I say … I will personally hand deliver you to John Winchester and let _both_ John and Dean teach you _why_ you should _never_ mess with one of their own.

Your decision _Peter_. You decide if you want to live another day or if you want to _die_." Caelan moved closer toward the Hunter, his hand clamping down uncomfortably upon Stewart's shoulder and offered him a crooked smile. "The choice is yours _Peter_ ," Caelan repeated, grinning in triumph when he saw Stewart retrieving his phone, obviously deciding to place the call to his father and decided to save his own ass for another day … just like the fucking coward he was!

 **CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH**

It never ceased to amaze Dean how young and vulnerable his kid brother looked when he was sleeping. Sam managed to look even more vulnerable than before because of the various bruises that littered his too young and innocent face; and Dean couldn't help but swallow hard at the overwhelming fear that surged within him. If the two Hunters hadn't found Sam in time, Dean could be just as easily be staring at his brother's cold, dead body right now.

Instinctively, Dean tightened his hold about his sibling protectively, that image leaving a sour taste in his mouth, his heart clenching painfully within his chest at the thought of never being able to see or talk to his pain in the ass little brother again.

As it was, Dean already felt guilty as hell at what had been done to Sam at the hands of those sadistic fucks … who were supposed to be _Hunters_ ; who were supposed to _help_ people; who Dean had naturally trusted because he always assumed that _all_ Hunters were honourable and stuck to the unspoken Hunters code of never hurting one of their own.

Dean could have kicked himself for being so gullible and blind. _If_ Sammy had been _punished_ for years, how was it that Dean had never noticed? How were _they_ able to get away with doing this without John or Dean having the slightest hint that something was going on? How the hell had Sammy managed to hide this from them for so long? Why hadn't he told either Dean or their Dad what was happening? Sam had to know that Dean would believe _anything_ that Sam told him … didn't he? Did he not say anything because he was scared no one would believe him … or, was it because of something else?

Dean closed his eyes, trying to reign in his steadily increasing frustration, anger and guilt. There was no point in Dean wallowing in "what if's". It had happened (possibly for years because Dean hadn't had a change to ask Sam about it yet). Dean had to put the past behind him – although, when Sam was feeling better, he was going to have a _very long_ talk with his younger brother and find out exactly what those bastards had been doing to him for all of these years and then he was going to exact his own brand of _punishments_ upon those assholes! – and concentrate on helping Sam through the latest trauma of what he had experienced today … because there would be fall out of what had occurred today, of that, Dean was one hundred percent certain. Sam wouldn't be able to keep his composure about all of this for long. As it was, Sam was already starting his "clingy" stage. That was one of the main reasons why he hadn't gone off to be with their Dad as Sam had suggested … that, as well as the other reasons he had told Sam.

Dean was too damn grateful to stay locked in these morbid thoughts for too long. Grateful that he had gotten to Sam in time before he had suffered any more abuse, both physically and mentally; grateful that he was holding a – although beaten and slightly broken – warm blooded body instead of a cold, dead corpse; grateful that he had time to fix things and to help Sam through any and all psychological problems that might crop up because of the abuse that he had suffered through.

And now that Dean knew what had happened to his brother – well, what he speculated actually, but it was becoming more and more obvious that this _had_ been happening for years – he could help to give Sam some piece of mind by going after those sons of bitches who had the audacity to lay their stinking, filthy hands all over his baby brother! He could –

Dean's eyes popped open at the soft sound of someone clearing their throat to get his attention. Dean relaxed when he saw it was only the doctor who stood before him and not some mentally unstable Hunter who was out to torment his brother some more!

 **DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW**

Caelan was watching Peter Stewart like a hawk while he was on the phone to his father; not that Caelan could hear a word that Stewart was saying! And even if Stewart _did_ manage to pull another one of his sneaky tricks … honestly what would it really matter now? They already had a mysterious _organisation_ on their asses, wanting to silence them for things that they knew _nothing_ about … how much worse could it get?

"Everything okay over here Hags?" Caleb asked softly; and even though his body language portrayed someone who was relaxed and at ease, Caelan could tell by the tone of his friend's voice and the way that his eyes were constantly sweeping the area for unknown threats that Caleb would be ready to fight in an instant if Caelan gave him the go ahead, no questions asked.

"It's all good Hawkes … you can stand down," Caelan replied just as softly, noticing Caleb relax slightly – just enough to shoot Caelan a questioning look – before he returned to observing the area around them.

"What's going on Caelan? I thought we would be moving out by now and dumping those two _idiots_! They're only slowing us down and we need to move _fast_ if we're going to stay ahead of these asses!"

Caleb turned to look at Caelan, his light brown eyes worried and serious now. "I don't mind admitting to you Caelan that this whole thing is freaking me out right about now. And staying in one place for too long is making me nervous as hell! The longer we stay in one place, the _easier_ it is for them to track us down. _You know this_ … so, what the hell are we still doing here with these two losers?" Caleb demanded in an aggravated hiss.

"Relax Caleb," Caelan soothed his friend. "We'll be on the move soon enough … _without_ these wannabe Hunters to slow us down." Caelan promised. "I'm hoping that Stewart's Dad can get these _ass clowns_ from off of our backs."

Caleb frowned, looking more confused than before by Caelan's explanation.

Caelan debated whether or not to tell Caleb any more than he had already. The more that Caleb knew, the more danger Caelan was unwittingly putting his friend in. And then Caelan realised how stupid that thought was. This _organisation_ had most likely already spotted Caleb with Caelan, meaning that Caleb was now marked like the rest of them to be silenced.

Trying to protect his friend from this seemed kind of … redundant, considering that Caleb was now in the same category as Caelan and the Winchesters … so, what harm would it do to reveal to Caleb everything that Caelan knew?

There was no harm in it at all. In fact, it would be downright foolish and irresponsible of Caelan to _not_ tell Caleb everything that he knew. How else could Caleb defend himself and his friends if he had no idea of what the was up against or if he was missing vital information in order for him to make some kind of plan in order to either out run or defeat this organisation?

Out running them was their best choice for now. At the moment, they had no _idea_ of _who_ they were up against and how they operated. Before they could even _think_ about defeating this _organisation_ , they had to _know_ who they were up against; which meant that Caelan could see _a lot_ of research in the foreseeable future.

Caelan let out a low sigh, only just know realising the _danger_ that he had _willingly_ pulled his friend into. Caelan shouldn't have called Caleb in for back-up but … it was too late for regrets. All Caelan could do now was to keep going forward and hope like hell that they all made it out of this alive as Caelan opened his mouth and decided to tell Caleb _everything_ that he had discovered, his theories and speculations.

No more secrets; secrets had a way of causing doubt and mistrust. If they were all going to survive this, then Caelan had to be up front and honest with his friend. It was the least he could do after dragging Caleb's ass into this whole mess!

 **CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH**

"Oh, hey Doc," Dean greeted her, automatically sitting up straighter when he noticed the way the doctor stood beside the two of them, the professional, emotionless mask upon her features.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," she began, her tone automatically soft and low so as to not disturb her peacefully sleeping patient.

"You didn't." Dean assured her. "I was just resting my eyes for a minute."

Elizabeth nodded, her expression softening in concern. "Has he been in a lot of pain?"

"Nah, not too bad, considering," Dean waved away the doctor's concern with – what he hoped was – a reassuring smile, even though it trembled upon his lips. "He's been having a few nightmares … but, that's to be expected after … " Dean's words trailed off as he floundered on how exactly to finish that sentence, not wanting to tell the doctor any more than was strictly necessary.

Elizabeth knew the basics of what Sam had gone through in order to be able to treat him correctly and Dean could tell by the look upon her face that she had been able to fill in a lot of the blanks by Sam's various injuries … it didn't take a genius to figure out that his baby brother had been tortured!

"Of course, that's only natural." She agreed sympathetically before her "professional" mask slipped back into place. "I was hoping I could have a private word with you,"

Dean blinked at her blankly.

"In order to discuss Sam's more … _delicate_ injuries."

"Oh." Dean nodded slowly as understanding suddenly hit him. "Of course,"

As Dean removed his arm from around Sam's shoulders, Sam grunted in displeasure, tightening his hold about his brother's shirt, frowning slightly. "Ah …" Dean bit on his bottom lip, leaning down to whisper soothingly within his brother's ear before he was able to extract himself from his younger brother.

Once Dean had gotten Sam into a position that he knew should cause Sam the least amount of pain – lying slightly on his side, pillows supporting both his back and his front, to keep his body supported as well as offering some kind of comfort – Dean followed the doctor to Sam's doorway and stopped so that he was still inside Sam's room, but far enough away where they could talk in private, out of Sam's hearing range.

"Sorry," Dean mumbled, blushing slightly in embarrassment when he noticed Elizabeth's look of surprise when Dean refused to leave his brother's room. "Sam's really clingy at the moment. If he wakes up and he can't see me, he'll freak out, so I'd rather stay here so that I can keep an eye on him." Dean offered up an explanation.

"Of course," Elizabeth agreed, smiling warmly. "I completely understand and it's no problem." She gently assured Dean before she returned back to "doctor" mode once more. "Most of Sam's injuries are not as bad as you would think considering what he's been through. All of his wounds are clean with no sign of infection so far, but we're giving him doses of antibiotics just to be on the safe side."

Dean nodded; glad that Elizabeth was using words that Dean could understand and not the medical jargon that most other doctor's used, making it almost impossible to understand what they were saying.

"Sam's injuries appear to be healing nicely, with no serious complications at all. If things continue as they are, Sam will be released within the next couple of days."

"Really?" Dean let out a sigh of relief." "That's really good news Doc. Thanks. The way you wanted to talk to me in private though, really had me worried." Dean laughed.

Elizabeth's smile was strained, noticing the way Dean's eyes would travel to his brother to check on him every few seconds before returning his attention back to her. "Yes, well, what I wanted to discuss with you …" Elizabeth took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm not sure if you're aware or not … but Sam has been sexual assaulted."

 **TBC**


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy. I have no knowledge or training in medical areas. I Have tried to keep everything as realistic as possible, but, as medical knowledge is not my area of expertise, just beware that there may be some mistakes in the next few chapters.

 **Special Note:** Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX**

Dean froze at the doctor's words, once again hearing his little brother's agonized screams as Dead Fucker had taunted him over the phone, Dean not being able to do a single damn thing to prevent that from happening to his brother, the helpless frustration rolling through him as he was once again reminded of that horrendous act, hoping like hell his suspicions on what was happening to his brother was wrong, but now realising with dread, horror and anger that his assumptions had been correct, considering what the doctor had just revealed to him.

"I'm aware," Dean stated as calmly as he could, the only sign of his roller coaster emotions was his eyes twitching as he tried to suppress and force down his emotions once more. "How … bad is it?" Dean finally asked, feeling sick, guilty and worried all at the same time. If only he'd gotten to his brother sooner …

"There was significant tearing but we were able to stitch it up and he shoulder make a full recovery."

Dean couldn't help but wince at her words. " _Should_?" Dean questioned, suddenly apprehensive now. "What do you mean by that?"

"Sorry," Elizabeth blushed. "Wrong choice of words. _Physically_ he will make a full recovery." She amended.

Dean nodded slowly, relieved that his brother wouldn't have any lasting physical effects over this. He also _knew_ that it would take a lot longer for Sam's psychological wounds to heal.

"Okay." Dean breathed, a brief smile upon his lips before it was gone again. "That makes me feel … I can deal with that." Dean added firmly, almost as if he was talking to himself. "Thanks Doc."

Dean was about to walk back toward his brother, thinking that the conversation was over, but Elizabeth's hand upon his arm stopped him in his tracks.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this Dean, really I am, but … when we were stitching Sam up … there was also significant scarring in that area."

Dean blinked, confused at the doctor's words. "What exactly does that mean?"

"This wasn't the first time that Sam has been sexually assaulted."

" _What_?!" Dean's eyes grew round with shock and horror, glancing over at his brother to the doctor and then back to his brother again. This wasn't the first time … someone had … his Sammy; his _baby brother_ had been _raped_ before? _When_? How was this even _possible_?

Dean closed his eyes, suddenly feeling nauseous and dizzy at the same time. Some fucking protector he had turned out to be! "Are you sure?" Dean asked so quietly that Elizabeth had to strain to hear what Dean had said as he looked at her in a desperate, hopeful, pleading way.

Elizabeth blinked back the sudden hot, stinging sensation in her eyes as she swallowed back her emotions, struggling to maintain her professionalism. "Of course, we don't _know_ that for sure." She said as gently as she could. 'But, I've unfortunately seen these types of injuries a lot more than I would like to admit, and that type of scarring … it's a definite red flag for sexual abuse."

Elizabeth saw Dean sag a little, deflated at this news and she couldn't help but _feel_ for this man; this Hunter that she barely knew but who obviously loved and adored his younger brother very much. "I'm so sorry," she murmured, the words not nearly strong enough to portray how she was feeling but it was the best that she could offer this obviously distraught man beside her.

Dean gritted his jaw together, determined not to fall apart in front of the doctor, quickly locking down his emotions, a numbness spreading through him as he nodded stiffly at the woman's meaningless words. "Is there anything else I should know?"

 **DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW**

"What the _fuck_ Caelan?" Caleb said, confused and bewildered by his friend's explanation, a slight shiver of apprehension running through him.

Caelan hadn't been wrong when he'd told Caleb that this was _big_. At the time, Caleb had been running on pure adrenaline and righteous anger at what these two … _idiots_ … so-called _Hunters_ … had done to his _friend_.

Although Caleb hadn't been around the Winchester siblings as much as Caelan had, Caleb still considered Sam and Dean to be his friends – John and Dean having saved his hide on more than one occasion – and Caleb was a loyal bastard. His friends were like his family, so Caleb would do everything in his power to protect and defend them to the best of his ability.

After hearing Caelan's explanation of both his thoughts and what he had learned so far about this secret _organisation_ that not even Caleb had heard about before today, Caleb knew that he should get as far away as he could from both Caelan and the Winchesters.

But … Caleb had never been smart and he most definitely was _not_ a coward! So, instead of running, like most other people would have, Caleb silently vowed to help his friends, no matter what that may cost him.

Sometimes being _loyal_ and not a coward was not a good combination, forcing Caleb to run _toward_ danger instead of _away_ from it. But … Caleb knew in his heart that he could never abandon his friends. His pride and stubbornness wouldn't let him act in such a cowardly way. So, toward the danger he would charge …

"So, you think this _organisation_ is full of what … _Hunters_?" Caleb demanded incredulously, hating to think that some of the people he trusted the most could be involved with this.

"I don't know Caleb," Caelan sighed, running a tired hand over his eyes, trying to wipe away his exhaustion and worry. He _hated_ to be apart from Dean and Sam so long. He wanted to get to them now, but he also knew how important it was to call this _organisation_ off of their backs. They couldn't do their damn jobs if they had to be constantly worried about and on the alert for other _Hunters_ scrambling to attack them as well. They had to get this damn target removed from their backs!

"But it's safe to assume so. Stewart, Hank and their Dads are definitely a part of this _organisation_ ; plus the sick fuck who orchestrated Sammy's abduction and torture session to begin with." Caelan paused to look closely at his friend who was gaping at him as if he couldn't believe this was actually happening. Caelan knew how Caleb felt. How many times today had Caelan had to remind himself that this was real and in no way an induced nightmare? Too many fucking times to count!

"And because we don't _know who_ is exactly involved in this secret organisation, we don't know who we can trust." Caelan watched as Caleb's expression turned to horror once Caelan's words penetrated his numb mind.

"That's why I … I'm sorry I pulled you into this Hags. I didn't realise _how big_ it was. I just wanted some help dealing with those two fuck-heads." Caelan jerked his head in Stewart and Adams' direction before turning back to his friend once more. "If I'd known …"

"What?" Caleb demanded. "You wouldn't have called me in? Is that what you're saying?" Caleb almost growled, becoming angry now. "For fuck sake Caelan, how many times do I have to remind you that you don't _need_ to handle this shit alone?

Haven't I proven that I will always back you up both on hunts and your personal issues – like your kamikaze, suicidal act of going after old-school Hunters because you felt they knew more about your Dad's death than what they were telling you? I thought you fucking _trusted_ me!" Caleb's light brown eyes hardened with an anger that Caelan had rarely seen within his friend's eyes, while Caelan could only stare up at Caleb completely dumbfounded and confused by his friend's words.

Where the hell had this come from?

Caelan frowned and couldn't help his own indignant anger from surging within him. "Of course I trust you! Why the fuck do you think I called _you_?" Caelan retorted, fighting to keep his voice low and not give into the rising irritation within him.

Caleb closed his eyes at Caelan's sharp retort, breathing deeply to calm himself down. Maybe he had been a tad out of line there, but, for fuck sake, you would think that after all of these years that Caelan realised that Caleb didn't _abandon_ his _friends_ … not ever!

"I was just trying to say that if I'd known how dangerous this was going to be, I would have warned you." Caelan said almost defensively now. "Geez Hags, someone needs to take a damn chill pill!"

Caleb couldn't help but chuckle in agreement with Caelan's assessment. Yep, he was too damn on edge for his own good! "Sorry man, I just … I would have been _more_ pissed if you hadn't called me! And, as I recall, you _did_ warn me how dangerous this could be. You told me that if I got involved with this, I could have Hunters gunning for me … I just didn't think there would be a whole damn _organisation_ of them!"

Caelan laughed bitterly. "Yeah, this isn't exactly how I thought this would go down either!" Caelan clapped Caleb on the shoulder and grinned at him weakly. "Glad you're with me Hawkes, I don't think I could have done this by myself.

When this is all over, what do you say, you and me go to the nearest bar we can fine; drink, play some pool; instigate a brawl, have some hot kinky sex with the hottest chicks we can find and make a damn weekend of it?"

"A vacation? Oh Hags, I didn't know you cared." Caleb teased before he returned his friend's grin and held out a hand. "That sounds like the best damn plan I've heard in a long time. I'm in!" Caleb whole heartedly agreed, sealing the agreement with a boisterous handshake.

Now all they had to do was to _survive_ this latest misadventure they were involved in to make good on the deal that they had just struck with each other.

 **CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH**

Dean felt his cool, detached, Hunter's mask slide into place as Elizabeth spoke to him about all of the other, older scars that they had noticed upon his baby brother's body while they had examined him.

Most of it looked like whip marks, Elizabeth had explained, mainly upon Sam's butt checks, upper and inner thighs. There was some burn marks upon Sam's groin, which looked like cigarette butt burns, but they couldn't be entirely sure that's what had caused the marks.

As Elizabeth continued to talk, and while Dean's outward appearance was cool, calm and collected, inside Dean's emotions were boiling inside of him like a damn inferno, a deep-seeded rage and hate for these _bastards_ who had fucking tortured his kid brother for … God knows how many years … coiling and slithering within him, knowing that he would never be able to get rid of this newly founded rage and hate until he had exacted revenge upon the sick A-holes who had hurt his brother!

Dean's jaw twitched almost convulsively, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he tried to breathe through his newly formed rage-hate, desperately trying to keep his emotions under control beneath his cool exterior, not wanting the doctor to see the pounding fury that was coursing through him.

Although, if he was completely honest, most of what he was feeling was eighty per-cent guilt for not only what had been done to his brother but for not noticing the various scars that Doctor Elizabeth had told him about that littered his little brother's body.

There was a time when Dean knew _everything_ about this kid; he could tell by one look into Sam's expressive hazel eyes what his brother was feeling; if he was hurt or trying to hide an injury of some kind. When had all of that changed? When had he lost the ability to be able to tell why his brother was hurting? Not only physically, but emotionally and mentally was well?

Dean had thought that he'd had a close bond with his little brother. He'd prided himself on being able to anticipate Sam's needs before Sam even knew what he needed or wanted. It was his _job_ to look out for his younger brother's needs. Being the oldest, it was Dean's responsibility to take care of his younger sibling.

But … even more than it being Dean's job or responsibility to look out for and protect his pain in the ass little brother, it was a part of _who_ he was. Keeping Sammy safe … it was ingrained within his very being, and it … it pissed him off that he had _failed_ his baby brother in such a disastrous, monumental way.

Dean forced a smile upon his taunt lips as the doctor laid a hand upon his arm, asking him if he was okay, concern and worry within her blue eyes. Dean nodded mechanically, verbally assuring the doctor that he was fine and needed to get back to his brother now.

Elizabeth smiled, vowing to check in with Dean within the next few hours and then Dean was left alone … alone with his self-incriminating thoughts as Dean tried to puzzle out when exactly everything had gone to shit, and how he'd stuffed up so badly, failing to notice his little brother's emotional and physical pain.

Almost reflectively, Dean made his way toward his brother's bed, eyes travelling over the length of Sam's body to make sure that his little brother was still comfortable and at peace, free from nightmares.

Satisfied that Sam seemed to be free of invading nightmares for the time being, Dean pulled the seat closer toward his hospital bed and sat down, instinctively grasping Sam's hand in his own, silently soothing and reassuring his brother that his big brother was here and that Sam was going to be okay as he once again contemplated when he had become so complacent in his older brother duties, as well as being Sammy's protector.

Dean recalled that Sam had always been a relatively clingy kid, always needing physical touches to reassure and soothe him; whether that be by ruffling his hair, squeezing the back of his neck, clamping a hand upon his shoulder or the infamous one-armed hug that Dean bestowed upon his brother infrequently (his way of saying "I love you" to his extremely emotional sibling).

Sam would have no problem in initiating physical contact if he needed it, either crushing Dean in a full-fledged, round the waist, enthusiastic hug which caused Dean to chuckle and return the favour with his one-armed hug or to pat Sam's head in recognition, his checks blushing red with embarrassment if he was around other Hunters his own age or trying to impress the next girl of his choice.

But Dean had _never_ growled or gotten angry at Sam's affectionate ways, or dissuaded the way Sam would fling himself into Dean's arms every day after school or when he returned after a hunt with Dad or another Hunter.

And while Sam had never been shy about voicing his opinions or expressing the emotional issues that Dean tried to avoid like the plague, as Sam grew older, he became more … hesitant … unwilling to shower Dean with his full-fledged hugs or shying away from the frequent touches of affection that Dean was now used to bestowing upon his emotionally sensitive younger brother, his huge hazel eyes now asking for permission to either hug or receive the reassuring physical gestures that he craved instead of initiating contact himself.

Dean let out a weary sigh, knowing that he would make himself sick with worry or drive himself to the brink of insanity if he continued to wallow in these morbid thoughts.

There were only two things that Dean knew for certain. Sam _would_ recover from this and tell Dean _exactly_ what those bastards had done to him now and in previous years; and the sons of bitches who had hurt Sam would suffer the wrath of an irate Dean Winchester!

 **DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW**

Caelan held his breath when Peter Stewart _finally_ ended his call, not able to tell on this wannabe Hunter's expression if he was successful in getting this damn _organisation_ from off of their backs or not.

Stewart blatantly ignored the desperate, pleading look upon Hank Adams face as he turned to Hagen, a slow smile spreading over his features as he walked toward Hagen and his … _friend_.

"You're off the hook Hagen," Peter told him. "The old man has given you and Dean a pass, sending his deepest apologies and his reassurances that the organisation will _now_ cease any and all efforts from tracking you down and eliminating you. You are now free to go and to do whatever the hell you want, without having to worry about the organisation coming after you."

Caelan breathed a sigh of relief, almost shocked at how easy this all seemed after everything they had been through in order to find Sammy and rescue him from his tormentors. It was a little … too easy. Surely, there had to be some kind of catch or … _nothing_ was ever this easy!

The organisation had been bound and determined to sweep this little incident under the rug … they hadn't seemed to be too concerned with taking them all out along the way. And now, just after one phone call from Wannabe Hunter, Peter Stewart, they had been spared coming to blows with this mysterious secret _organisation_?

Wow … Stewart's Dad must be high up on the chain of command than Caelan thought or …

"My father's sending the limo to pick me up now." Stewart continued, that annoying, smug look upon his face once more. "My father said he would leave you alone as long as I was unhurt. Considering that Dean Winchester has broken my nose and left my face all bloodied and bruised … I would advise that you be long gone by the time the limo gets here."

God, Caelan hadn't missed seeing that condescending smirk. He wanted nothing more than to smack the smirk from this pompous wannabe Hunter's face!

But … a deal was a deal, and unfortunately, Caelan was a man of his word. So, as much as it pained him to do so, Caelan would walk away and leave Peter Stewart intact, even though every instinct was screaming at him to cause damage of some kind because he _had_ helped to _hurt_ his little brother.

Caelan briefly closed his eyes, clenching his hands into fists, fighting the urge to pound this fucker into the ground as he gave Stewart a courtesy nod before he touched Caleb on the arm and jerked his head in the direction of Caleb's Ute, wordlessly telling his friend that they were done here.

Caleb nodded and silently followed his friend toward the car, glad to leave these _idiots_ behind. These two made Caleb _feel_ dumber just by being around them!

"Oh … and Hagen!" Stewart called before the two Hunters had gone more than ten paces away from them.

Caelan stopped and looked back at Stewart over his shoulder, arching an eyebrow warily, not liking the cocky gleam that entered Stewart's blue eyes.

"F.Y.I … you and Dean are absolved from the organisation's wrath for now, but if you try to interfere with our plans, stop us or try to find out more about us … all bets are off!" Peter grinned at Caelan's shocked expression, motioning to the men in the tree line, to be ready to defend him because when he revealed this next piece of information, he knew that Caelan would be itching for his blood!

"Hagen … you, Caleb, Dean … and even John Winchester, are included in this one-off deal. The Demon Spawn … also known as little Sammy Winchester … is _not_ under our protection."

Caelan's breath caught in his throat at Stewart's words. Wait … what? Sammy wasn't included? But … he was a damn _Hunter_ too! And what the fuck was all of this Demon Spawn crap that Stewart was talking about?

Caelan's eyes narrowed, his expression darkening at the unveiled threat perceived within Stewart's words. "And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Caelan demanded in a low, dangerous voice. Stewart wasn't the only one who knew how to intimidate people!

Peter Stewart laughed, delighted at the predicament that he was now about to present to the two Hunters. "Sam's fair game Hagen." Stewart explained, his voice cold and icy at the same time. "He … well, let's just say that he's _important_ to the organisation.

If they feel that Sam needs to undergo another round of … _conditioning_ … and if _any_ of you try to stop that from happening or get in our way … we _will_ hunt you down and kill you!" Stewart's eyes narrowed so that Caelan could see how deadly serious Peter was before he offered Caelan a bright, fake smile once more.

"And just so you're aware … the organisation will be reacquiring Sam Winchester in …" Stewart checked his watch and chuckled darkly. "Well … right about _now_ actually; Dean, of course, will try to stop them because he _loves_ his little brother so damn much!" Stewart's voice rose mockingly, his face twisting into a look of sick disgust at the thought of having that _Demon Spawn_ as any sort of kin what so ever!

"If you want to save Dean's life … best you get to the hospital as fast as you can before Winchester does something _stupid_ to get both of them killed! Because if the organisation can't _obtain and control_ Sam Winchester, the _Demon Spawn_ , then they have direct orders to kill him!"

 **TBC**


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy. I have no knowledge or training in medical areas. I have tried to keep everything as realistic as possible, but, as medical knowledge is not my area of expertise, just beware that there may be some mistakes in the next few chapters.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Mimmi85** for your kind words. Sorry it's taken a while for an update, but had a bit of writers block and with the holiday season … hope everyone had an awesome Christmas! Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN**

Caelan blinked, confused by what Peter Stewart was telling him. As soon as Stewart had told Caelan that Sam was "fair game" in that condescending self-satisfied, smug way that was unique to Peter Stewart, Caelan had felt his protective instincts flaring brightly within him, realising those words for what they were … Stewart was _threatening_ his brother!

Caelan's body tensed, anger and then rage making him tremble the more that Stewart threw out his "warnings" and gloated that Sammy basically belonged to this fucking _organisation_ now and there wasn't a damn thing that any of them could do to _stop_ _them_.

Caelan snorted at this pompous ass' threats. As if _any_ of them – John, Dean or himself – would _ever_ agree to those terms and let these arrogant SOBS get their hands on Sammy again! _Of course_ they were going to _stop_ them if they came after one of their own? Did Stewart fucking forget who the hell he was talking to?!

Caelan growled deeply within his throat, wanting nothing more than to _attack_ this self-righteous, smug, arrogant … _ass clown_ , and teach him what it meant to threaten _his family_ , and it was only Caleb's hand upon his arm in warning that stilled his actions.

Caelan had been so focused upon Stewart and trying to _break_ his attitude with his death-glare alone, that Caelan had failed to notice the group of men who surrounded Peter Stewart in a protective barrier, their guns raised toward Caelan and Caleb in warning.

"Easy," Caleb murmured from beside him. "We can't fight _six_ armed men Hags. We'll get him next time." Caleb promised. "When he hasn't got his body guards with him, okay?"

Caelan grunted in reply, pulling his arm free from Caleb's hand, fuming with rage, aching to pound some flesh … because _how dare they think that_ … Hang on … what was that?

"What did you just say?" Caelan demanded, not sure if he had heard Stewart correctly. "Did you just _threaten_ to kill _both_ Dean and Sam?"

Stewart shrugged, unconcerned. "Better hurry," he called out, smirking with satisfaction before his armed guard escorted him away.

"You fucking son of a bitch!" Caelan screamed. "I will fucking _kill_ you if you hurt _either_ of them … do you hear me, you selfish bastard?!"

Before Caelan was even consciously aware of it, his body was moving forward to follow and confront Stewart … armed guards be damned … when he felt someone grab his shoulder and jerk him to a stop before he could carry out his plan.

"Caelan, stop!"

Caelan whirled around, snarling, almost completely overcome by rage now at this fucker _threatening his family_!

"Stop this!" Caleb hissed, violently shaking Caelan's shoulders in an attempt to bring some common sense back into his friend. Caleb hadn't seen Caelan loose himself to his emotions like this since his father's death eleven years ago. And just like it had been then, seeing his friend so distraught and … _raw_ … caused Caleb to fear for his friend's sanity.

He didn't care if Caelan decided to hit him; hell, the two of them had gotten into numerous fist fights over the years, Caleb could hold his own, but seeing Caelan like this … Caleb knew he had to get Caelan's mind _grounded_. The last thing he needed to deal with right now was Caelan's spiral into self-destruct mode.

"Damn it Hags, listen to me!" Caleb pushed Caelan back forcefully when Caelan tried to stand over Caleb, trying to intimidate him into submission. "We need to get to the hospital right now! Sam and Dean are in trouble! Hags … for fuck sake, I've had enough of this shit!"

Caelan felt a stinging sensation upon his check, the pain snapping him back to himself as he stared at Caleb incredulously. "Hawkes … did you just _slap_ me?! What are you? Some kind of fucking _girl_ now?"

Caleb rolled his eyes and laughed in relief when he heard his friend's playful teasing. "Got you back, didn't it?" Caleb retorted with a grin. "Come on man, we've got to get to the hospital ASAP … before Dean decides to play the bloody hero all by himself!"

 **CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH**

Years of Hunter instincts to be aware of every noise within your surroundings, regardless of whether you were awake or asleep had made Dean a light sleeper. He was more attuned to his environment when his brother was with him – considering that his primary goal was to look out for and protect his pain the ass little brother – but he was especially more alert when Sam was sick or injured (more vulnerable than if he was well or healthy).

So when Dean heard a slight shuffling noise that didn't belong within the hospital room, his eyes snapped open, on full alert as he took in his surroundings, trying to determine what had roused him from his light slumber.

Within the low lighting of the room, Dean could vaguely make out a figure that was standing over his brother's bed, Sam's chart within their hands, and Dean felt himself relax slightly when he realised that it was obviously a nurse coming to see about his brother's comfort and well-being.

"Think you're a little early for the pain meds," Dean remarked, a smirk of amusement on his lips when he noticed how the person jumped at his soft voice. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," Dean began to apologize before the person turned to look at him in shocked surprise, a needle held above Sam's IV line, poised to administer the drug into his brother's system.

Dean's demeanour went from semi-relaxed to highly suspicious in five seconds flat when he realised that he didn't recognize this person at all.

The Doc – Doctor Elizabeth – had been really considerate in introducing Dean to the nurses who would be on rotation to help with Sam's medical needs. She had explained to Dean that she had only put on people she could _trust_ one hundred percent to keep Sam and his various injuries strictly confidential.

The man staring back at Dean, like a deer who was caught in headlights was a complete stranger to Dean; and that had Dean's protective and Hunter instincts screaming at him that something was wrong with this picture.

Dean jumped to his feet, vaulted over his brother's bed, knocking the syringe out of this stranger's hand as Dean ruthlessly slammed the man up against the wall, using his weight to hold the man in place in a dominate manner, while not hard enough to hurt him in case this really was just a nurse attending to Sam's needs that he hadn't met yet.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean demanded in a low, threatening voice. "What the hell was in that syringe that you were just about to give my brother?"

"Dean Winchester," the man said, his voice velvety smooth, his shock replaced by a knowing grin, glancing almost casually into Dean's threatening, dark, protective glare. "It's nice to finally meet you in person. I've heard a lot about you. You're as sharp as they say you are." His grin stretched wider. "Unfortunately for you, my mission is to reacquire your brother for more _reconditioning_."

"Like hell you will!" Dean growled, his body coiled tight, getting ready to strike now that he knew this man was a viable threat. "You're not getting anywhere near my brother, you sick son of a bitch!"

The man tilted his head to the side, clearly more amused than intimidated by Dean's wrathful aurora. "Ah. So, it is true. You _are_ this … _Demon Spawn's_ protector!"

Dean bristled at this stranger's words. "Sammy's _not_ a Demon Spawn!" Dean retorted vehemently. "And you're damn right I'm his protector! You will have to go through me to get to him."

"Really?" the man sighed softly in regret. "I was really hoping you wouldn't say that or make such a fuss about this. _You_ are not supposed to be involved in this."

"Yeah, so I've been told." Dean spat out sarcastically. "If you've heard so much about me, then you should know what my number one rule is … no one hurts my little brother and gets away with it!" Dean's voice was so low that it was almost guttural in nature, his green eyes flashing with both a challenge and a declaration. "So, if you value your life … you should get out of here right now before you make me really angry!"

The man paused, as if considering Dean's ultimatum. "As much as your … generous offer intrigues me … I'm going to have to decline." He said, amused by Dean's look of astonishment. "Yeah, I bet when you use that low threatening voice and give you opponent that … deadly, evil looking glare, that most people would be backing down and giving into you right now."

He pursed his lips, a slow, deliberate smile falling upon his expression. "But I'm not _most people_ , and to tell you the truth Mr Dean Winchester … your huff and puff attitude … is merely an illusion. You don't really want to fight me."

Dean arched his eyebrows, almost laughing out loud at the ludicrous notion of this man's words. This guy was so dead wrong in his assumptions, it wasn't even funny! After everything that Dean had witnessed and been through today … he'd like nothing better than to use this guy's face as a punching bag!

"Really? Is that what you think?" Dean inquired innocently enough, deliberately fixing his expression into one of regret and remorse, lowering his eyes in an embarrassed way before he raised his eyes to the man once more.

Dean _loved_ it when his opponent had fixed ideas and notions about him. And if Dean was in a particularly _bad_ mood, he would do everything in his power to encourage their delusional thoughts. It made wiping the floor with their asses so much more satisfying. And the fact that this stupid moron had invaded a place where the brothers should feel safe and secure, threating to … take Sammy away … he had no idea of what Dean was capable of or how far he would go to protect his little brother!

But … this _moron_ was about to find out!

Dean watched the man's attitude become more arrogant and cocky, completely buying into Dean's submissive, embarrassed act. He honestly thought he had won. He thought he had successfully managed to make Dean _bow down_ to him, seeing the errors of his ways while Dean stood back and allowed this man to … reacquire his brother?!

Dean smirked in a predatory fashion, shoving the barrel of his gun against this stupid idiot's side, a satisfied gleam in his green eyes when he saw the man's eyes widen in shock and fear, realising that he had greatly underestimated Dean Winchester.

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Sam was extremely relieved that when he fell back to sleep, he didn't fall into the unremembered nightmare that he had awoken from, the constant pressure he could feel against his hand, keeping him anchored and safe as the pounding in his head began to slowly ease and die down, succumbing to the land of unconsciousness as Sam was pulled into another nightmare.

But this one … this was one Sam had lived through countless times before … one that had kept him awake when the memories of previous times would invade his sleep periodically over the years, keeping him from sleeping, not wanting to relive the previous torture sessions.

But, because of the pain medication that flooded throughout his body, Sam knew that he was effectively out for the count and there would be no way that he could wake himself up if he had to as he spiralled down into the memory of the very first time he had been punished, six months after his tenth birthday …

Sam shivered violently, tied to a revolving table – right side up this time, thank God! – the wet clothes clinging to his young body as he desperately pulled at the ropes that bound him, hoping that he could wrench himself free from the ropes; but all Sam succeeded in doing was causing the rope to bite further into his already tender, red raw flesh.

"Demon Spawn!" a voice snapped to Sam's right, causing Sam to jump and gulp nervously, his panic going up a notch when he noticed that he couldn't see anything because of the blindfold that was covering his eyes, water dripping from his hair and falling down in rivulets upon his already wet and soaking t-shirt, confused, terrified and not knowing what these people wanted from him.

The last thing Sam could vividly recall was his Dad dropping him off at his friend's house; a Hunter, who sometimes partnered up with John Winchester from time to time, Marc Ley-Lamp; as Sam's father and older brother – fourteen-year old Dean – chased down a hunt which may shed more light on The Demon that had killed his mother exactly ten years ago today.

Not only were the Winchesters dealing with the anniversary of Mary's death, but it had only been six months since Caelan's Dad – Connor Hagen, long-time friend and surrogate uncle to both boys – had died rather mysteriously six months ago … Connor had gone missing the night of Sam's tenth birthday and wasn't found until two days later, after a hunt he had gone on had ended in his untimely and traumatic death.

Sam didn't know why, but the thought of his birthday night made him feel very uneasy … actually terrified would be a better term to describe the feeling; and being only ten-years old, Sam was not willing to consciously delve too deeply into _why_ he felt so uneasy and anxious about that particular night and why, when he thought about the beloved, late Connor Hagen, Sam _always_ linked his disappearance and death to the night of his tenth birthday.

Now, Sam was staying with another Hunter while his Dad tracked down the monster that had destroyed their family all of those years ago and Dean helped both their Dad in his obsessive quest to find _The Demon_ ; and their friend Caelan in _his_ obsessive desire to find out _exactly_ what had happened to his Dad six months ago.

Sam didn't trust Marc; not in all of the years that the two Hunters had met during a hunt and became more than just an acquaintance but not quite a friend. It took a lot to gain John Winchester's trust … especially other Hunters.

But now it looked as if John trusted this man enough to look after Sam for two weeks – maybe longer depending on the hunt – not wanting the lecture from either Pastor Jim or Uncle Bobby, long time and firm friends of the Winchesters.

Sam though, he didn't _trust_ this man as far as he could throw him. There was something in his shifty pale eyes which caused Sam's instincts to scream at him to run. But, even at ten-years old, Sam was not completely defenceless.

He had been taught self-defence by one of the best Hunters around; and if Sam got out of here in a hurry, he'd memorized both Pastor Jim's and Uncle Bobby's numbers, already knowing his brother's and father's numbers off by heart. Plus, he already had escape routes out of this place in case he needed an out.

John Winchester may have been a tyrant when it came to the training sessions he _insisted_ both of his boys participate in, but in times like this, when Sam was in an unfamiliar environment, not entirely convinced he could trust the man his father had left him with, Sam was grateful for the training sessions.

At least, he knew that if he had to, he could survive out in the woods by himself until he managed to contact either his Dad or his brother. But, for now, Sam pushed his uneasiness to the side and decided to give this man the benefit of the doubt.

Sam was just a kid. John Winchester had years of experience judging people; and if he said that Marc was a trust worthy person, then who was Sam to say otherwise? And slowly, Sam began to let his guard down …

 **SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

"So, let's try this again, shall we?" Dean cocked his gun, purposely pushing the barrel of his gun harder into the man's side – enough to leave bruises and a mark in the morning. "Now that you realise how … _serious_ I am here … I'm giving you one last chance to walk out of here with your life and your dignity intact."

The man swallowed hard, his calm composure being replaced by anxiety and fear. "I – I can't do that." He sighed almost regretfully. "If I leave here without the Demon Spawn … they will kill me."

Dean smacked the man in the jaw with his free hand, watching as his head jerked to the side and back at the force of Dean's punch. "Don't you _ever call my brother that again_!" Dean snarled, his green eyes deepening with barely controlled rage. "He is _not_ a Demon Spawn! He is Sam Winchester, John Winchester's son and my little brother. If I hear one more person refer to Sammy as a Demon Spawn, I will cut them down where they stand."

Dean's eyes narrowed, watching the man's facial expressions closely, trying to get some idea on what his enemy would do now that he knew he wouldn't be able to complete his mission by kidnapping Sam once more.

The options this … fucking moron had were bleak and both ended the same way. He either left without fulfilling his mission and the people he was obviously working for, killed him; or he tried to _somehow_ get around Dean to drug and cart Sam Winchester to God only knew where and Dean shot him dead before he had the chance to reach Sam's side.

Dean smirked as he saw the realisation of how hopeless and dire his situation was finally registering within the man's eyes.

"Come on man … you're a Hunter, right? And Hunters have a _Code of Honour_ – or so I've been told," the man begged, his eyes wide with pleading as he tried to appeal to Dean's logical side. "You're not just going to _kill_ me in cold blood … are you?" he licked his lips, giving Dean a hesitant smile. "We're both consenting adults here. I'm sure that between … _Men of Honour_ … we can come up with some kind of arrangement that could suit both of our needs."

"Honour?" Dean snorted in disgust. "You don't know the meaning of the word. How _honourable_ is it of you to come into a _hospital_ and attack a defenceless man while he is obviously hurt and vulnerable?"

The man swallowed nervously. "Look man, I'm just doing what I'm told, all right?" he tried another approach in order to try and appease this crazy-eyed Hunter before him. "I'm not even a damn Hunter … I'm just a lackey they sent in, in order to complete this mission. I'm the muscle, meant to keep you distracted …"

Dean frowned, a shiver of dread running up and down his spine at the man's words. Not a Hunter … a lackey … muscle … to keep him distracted … oh shit! Sammy!

 **TBC**


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy. I have no knowledge or training in medical areas. I have tried to keep everything as realistic as possible, but, as medical knowledge is not my area of expertise, just beware that there may be some mistakes in the next few chapters.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **kandilyn** for your kind words. Happy New Year, here's hoping that this year is better than last year. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT**

At first, when Bobby Singer had received the text message from John Winchester, he'd thought it had been some kind of prank. After all, it had been five years since the last time he had heard from the stubborn elder Winchester.

That man couldn't stand to be proven wrong, and he didn't like to be told the truth. Not at all. John Winchester was the king of holding grudges; but now … now Bobby had received a message from the man himself.

Bobby had been convinced it was a trap until he saw the special code word the two of them had devised a few years back for a way to alert the other of any trouble they might have been in without alerting the enemy that they had managed to let someone be aware of the danger they were in.

The code word that John had used in the text message caused Bobby to jump to his feet and get on the road as fast as he could to the coordinates that John had sent him because that particular code word John had used meant that the boys were in danger. And regardless of the disagreement and animosity between the two older men, Bobby would drop everything to help the Winchesters if they were in trouble … he'd even help that stubborn bastard John Winchester!

Now, here Bobby was, sitting at the beside of the hard-assed, frustratingly stubborn older Winchester, anxiously waiting for John to wake up after the surgery to repair the stab wound. Thankfully the surgery had been relatively straight forward and the doctors had high hopes that John would make a full recovery.

John had been very disorientated and groggy by the time the ambulance had reached him and transported him to the hospital. John had tried to explain to Bobby what was going on, but his words came out garbled and Bobby had trouble understanding what the man was trying to tell him. And honestly, some of the things that John was telling him seemed so far-fetched and unbelievable; Bobby had to wonder if John had gotten reality confused with something he had dreamed up.

But this was John Winchester. And if there was one thing John wasn't inclined to do, it was to embellish the truth; if anything, he tended to down play situations. If John was saying this had happened, then Bobby believed the man … even if it seemed totally inconceivable and a borderline, second-class, cheesy plot of a disastrous sci-fi movie.

The one thing John had managed to get across loud and clear was that his boys were in danger. He'd managed to tell Bobby that some inconsiderate, suicidal idjit, had kidnapped Sam, but Sam was now in the protective custody of his older brother Dean and best friend Caelan. And even though that should have soothed John and made him feel better, John Winchester became more agitated, _insisting_ that Bobby make contact with his boys and warn them of the danger they were in.

What exactly Bobby was supposed to warn them about … Bobby had no idea, but he had promised John that he would touch base with his boys and warn them of the danger before John had been wheeled off into surgery.

Because of John's paranoia, Bobby couldn't help the stirrings of panic and worry filling him. If John was _this_ freaked out about his boys, then Bobby couldn't help but be concerned as well; and it wasn't until Bobby heard Dean's voice that the older Hunter began to relax as he warned Dean to be careful and to touch base with him frequently, updating him about Sam's condition while Bobby reciprocated by keeping Dean in the loop of his Daddy's progress.

The older Hunter sighed as he ran a hand over his beard, relieved that _all_ of the Winchesters seemed safe for now, but impatient as he waited for John to wake up and tell him exactly what the hell was going on.

These damn Winchesters were going to cause him to go grey before his time! Damn fool Winchesters, always getting in way over their heads! And … as usual … it was up to Bobby to help get their asses out of the frying pan once again!

Bobby huffed, grunting loudly, not nearly as pissed off as he appeared to be. He just hoped that whatever trouble John Winchester had landed himself in this time, that Bobby would be able to provide a way to get them out of it.

 **JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW**

Now Sam knew that was a mistake he may not live to regret as he lay tied to the table, blindfolded, shivering in cold, trembling in fear, confused about why these people wanted him and why they kept asking him these questions that he had no clue about, let alone what the answers were supposed to be.

For the last – God, Sam didn't even know how long he had been here, but it felt like forever! – few hours, he had been asked questions about The Demon and his mother's death, and if Sam refused to answer or they didn't like the answers that Sam gave them, they would flip the table over and dunk his head into a tub of water, causing Sam to choke and splutter, petrified that this time they would leave him the tub for too long and he ended up drowning.

"Puh-please … let me g-go." Sam pleaded. "I … I don't know wh-what you want. M-mum died when I was just a b-baby. I don't know how she di-died."

"But she died in your nursery Demon Spawn," the modulated voice replied calmly, unmoved by the boys' desperate plea or his violently trembling lower lip.

It was time to start the reconditioning now that the drugs had a chance to spread through his system, making the suggestions they were about to say to the … _Demon Spawn_ … all the more believable. Drugs and torture … it was the only effective way to make sure the reconditioning and the suggestions stayed within this … _thing's_ mind.

"Well … yeah, but –"

"Since she died in your nursery, it stands to reason that it is your fault … correct?"

"M-my fault?" Sam stammered, feeling scared, confused and vulnerable, wishing that his big brother would burst through the door and rescue him; save him from these people whose agenda Sam had no clue about; save him from being hurt anymore; save him from these psychopaths that held him captive.

"Yes. Your fault Demon Spawn." The voice replied in an almost gentle manner. "I understand how confusing this must be. But believe it or not … I'm here to help you young Demon Spawn."

Sam flinched at the feel of hands caressing his face. "Ugh! Get … get off … Don't t-touch me! My big brother … Dean will kick your ass!" Sam tried to threaten them, even though his voice shook tremendously, tears slipping out from beneath the blindfold.

The hand stopped in mid stroke against Sam's check and Sam breathed a sigh of relief before he felt a sharp, stinging sensation to his check, causing his head to whip violently to one side, a startled, sharp cry escaping him.

"You don't get to talk to me unless I tell you too," the voice responded harshly by gripping Sam's hair and ruthlessly pulling his head back. "Do you understand _Demon Spawn_?" the voice spat against Sam's ear, sounding almost disgusted as Sam squeaked in terror, his acknowledgement, a fresh wave of tears falling down his checks.

"Good." The voice said, releasing the hold upon Sam's hair, patting Sam's check approvingly. "Good boy. Right. Now, I'm going to tell you the truth little Demon Spawn. The Demon … he was there for you that night. Your mother _died_ trying to protect you. She _died because of you_ … because you were born."

"Nah … no!" Sam denied, viciously shaking his head from side to side. "That's not true! The D-Demon did-didn't want me. W-Why –"

Sam's question was cut off abruptly as the table turned over and Sam was dunked into the tub of water once more, almost to the point of unconsciousness this time.

"That was for talking back to me." The voice reprimanded him. "No _talking_ unless I _order_ you to … Do you understand?"

"Y-y-yes," Sam stuttered, shivering and trembling, feeling extremely tired because of the near drowning he had just received.

"Good. Now, where was I? Uh … yes … The Demon was there for you that night. It's your fault your mother died, your fault that Dean no longer has a mother and has to take care of you. It's your fault that your Dad obsessively runs into danger in order to find The Demon that killed his wife."

Sam couldn't help but whimper at this man's accusations, knowing that what he said wasn't the truth but … at the same time; it almost made a horrible kind of sense.

"You are tainted little Demon Spawn; cursed by The Demon that visited you that night." The voice whispered almost seductively in his ear. "If you had never been born … your mother would still be alive. Do you want to be the cause of your father's or your brother's deaths?"

Sam choked back on a sob, horrified by those words, more than scared because, even though he _knew_ that his Dad and brother had never blamed him for Mary Winchester's death, Sam could feel the words this man spoke sink into the depths of his unconsciousness.

Icy seeds of doubt began to sprout within his young mind. And slowly, after hours and hours of these same words being whispered into his ear, followed by the drugs that they continuously pumped through him, Sam couldn't help but start to _believe_ the words this stranger spoke.

He didn't want his father or brother to die because of him. He didn't want to kill them like he had his own mother.

"You know the truth now, don't you little Demon Spawn? It would have been better for your family if you had _never been born_!"

No! No! No! No! Not real … just a dream! Just a memory!

Sam felt as if his heart had been pulled from his chest and squeezed so hard that it hurt because the simple _truth_ of those words remained obvious and had a sick kind of simplicity behind them.

If he had never been born … his family would be safe. Mum wouldn't have died, Dad wouldn't be charging into dangerous hunts, Dean wouldn't have the added responsibility of having to look after him – his pain in the ass little brother – and could be a kid again, doing whatever he wanted, when he wanted. If he had never existed, his family would be intact, whole and happy.

This stranger was right. He _was_ tainted … cursed … a _burden_ to both his father and brother; a distraction; an easy target for their enemies.

Yes, no matter which way Sam looked at it … Dad and Dean would have been better off without him …

 **SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

Dean's heart pounded loudly in his ears, his eyes wide with disbelief, irritated with himself when he realised that this … fuck-head … had just been a diversion and Dean had been so completely absorbed and centred on this man's mere threatening presence within the hospital room that Dean had failed to take into consideration other threats that may be in this very room, sneaking up on a weakened and vulnerable Sam as we speak …

Fuck!

A muffled whimper from the direction of Sam's bed caused Dean's head to whip toward his brother's position, the moron in front of him all but forgotten in the face of Sam being in some kind of trouble.

"Sonuvabitch!" Dean hissed, his breath catching in his throat when he saw a strange figure standing over Sam, Sam's eyes wide open, panicked as he weakly tried to hold off this figure's attack; a large hand clamped over Sam's mouth, his other hand slowly injecting _something_ into Sam's IV line …

No!

"Get away from my brother, you son of a bitch!" Dean growled, his voice low, threatening and dangerous, his green eyes narrowing in undisguised fury and rage at this … _fucker_ … who _dared_ to _touch_ his brother!

Dean shoved the … _muscle_ into the wall hard enough to leave him crumbled in a heap on the ground as Dean quickly drew his gun, intending to shoot this fucker dead, before he suddenly registered movement out of the corner of his eye to the side of him.

Before Dean had time to blink or defend himself, he found himself upon the ground, gasping for breath, pain spreading throughout the entire length of his body, looking into his baby brother's frantic, horror-filled hazel eyes, the darkness invading the edges of his vision as he felt himself slipping into the void.

"Sammy," Dean wasn't sure if he spoke his brother's name or merely mouthed it, his eyes becoming heavier. "Run,"

"DEAN!" Sam's terrified scream penetrated Dean's mind before he succumbed to the darkness and fell into the void of oblivion.

 **DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW**

Caelan Hagen glared at his phone, willing it to connect with the person he was desperately trying to contact, but it just kept ringing and ringing until the voice mail clicked in, telling Caelan to leave a message after the beep.

"Dean!" Caelan sighed in exasperation, irritated because his friend wasn't picking up. That could mean that either Dean was too busy with Sam to answer or those fucktard's from the organisation were already at the hospital and the boys were in trouble.

"Fucking call me back dude, this is serious!" Caelan practically yelled before he slammed his phone shut, his jaw clicking in nervous apprehension as he glanced over at Caleb who was navigating through the streets in desperate urgency to get to the hospital as fast as he could.

"Still no answer," Caleb guessed, shooting a side-long glance toward Caelan before concentrating on the road once more, but not before he saw the irritated, scathing look Caelan sent him, confirming Caleb's guess. "Look Hags, there could be lots of reasons why Dean isn't answering his phone. Let's not panic until we know what's going on, okay?"

Caelan growled low in his throat, disliking his friend's logical assumptions at the moment. Caelan didn't have the luxury of thinking calmly and logically. This was his _family_! And as far as Caelan knew, they could be in danger right now! And he was stuck in fucking traffic, with a calm Caleb who was trying to give him advice, while they were stuck behind the slowest driver ever!

"Can't you make this piece of crap go any faster?" Caelan demanded, unconsciously taking his frustrations out on his friend. "Come on Hawkes! Just drive _over_ these clowns!"

Caleb closed his eyes, mentally counting to ten to try to calm himself before he reopened his eyes, placing a neutral expression upon his face, not wanting to make his already unreasonable and panicked friend any worse by adding his own conflicting emotions into the mix. "I'm going as fast as I can Caelan. And if you call my car a piece of crap again, I'll make you get out and walk."

Caelan blinked at Caleb's words, startled for a few seconds before he sighed, running a worried hand through his black hair. "Sorry Caleb," Caelan said sincerely. "I'm just worried. Didn't mean to take it out on you."

Caleb nodded, accepting his friend's apology. "You wanna try Dean again?" he asked his agitated friend.

Caelan looked at the offending phone, scowling at it, instinctively knowing that if Dean had gotten his message, he would have called him back by now as another person who he could contact came to mind.

Caelan could have slapped himself for his stupidity in not realising it sooner, but he'd been too distracted by his own frustrations to think clearly. "Nah. No point. But I've just realised who else I can call." Caelan replied as he punched in the new number on his cell phone.

"Who?" Caleb raised his eyebrows, both surprised and curious.

Caelan turned to grin at him. "Doctor Elizabeth Cox; oldest child of one Roger Stewart, ex-Hunter, older sister to fuck-head number one, Peter Stewart, and who I liked to affectionately call Lizzie." Caelan answered almost flippantly.

Caleb gaped at Caelan in shock. Elizabeth Stewart who had come from one of the oldest and wealthiest Hunter families in the hunting community was a freaking doctor! And not just that … Caleb also knew about the complicated history that Caelan shared with this particular woman.

If Caleb remembered correctly; Caelan had once told him during one of their many drunkenly benders that this woman was the best damn woman that Caelan had ever met and was the love of his life.

 **CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH**

Sam opened wide, panicked eyes, his breath caught in his throat, confused and disorientated for a few seconds until he heard the low rumble of his big brother's pissed off voice and saw a strange figure standing over him, about to inject some foreign drug into his IV line.

Everything snapped back to him in an instant with clarity and precision, instinctively trying to fight the figure who was trying to drug him … poison him; but Sam was still weak, his left – previously dislocated – shoulder, screaming at him at the violent use of his still disabled limb.

Sam tried to call out for his big brother's – his guardian, his saviour – help but a well-placed hand over his mouth from this mysterious figure, left Sam's words muffled and indistinct.

Somehow through the muffled sounds, Dean was able to detect the panic within Sam's voice, and almost at the same time, the two brothers' eyes met, silent communication filling the void between them as Dean purposely made his way toward Sam, who was slowly losing the battle to hold off this strange figure who towered above him.

Sam almost sighed in relief when he saw the dark, deadly look within Dean's green eyes, focused solely on one thing; get to Sam and stop that son of a bitch from hurting his little brother.

Sam's eyes widened a moment later when he saw a figure come out of the shadows, a gun aimed at his older brother, equipped with a silencer and Sam felt the panic surging within him.

Oh God, he had to warn Dean! Dean, turn around! He's got a gun! He'll kill you! Dean!

Dean must have sensed the unknown figure beside him, but it was too late as Sam watched the masked figure beside his brother fire his weapon, the gun making a soft, almost inaudible noise.

Horror filled Sam as he saw Dean collapse upon the ground, urging Sam to _run_ before Dean's eyes closed, his body enveloped by the crimson red of his blood.

No! Dean!

"DEAN!" Sam screamed, his brother's name ripping out of him, his voice filled with horror, pain and rage. "Dean! Get up! _Please_ … get up!" Sam begged, his body suddenly feeling sluggish and heavy.

Oh God … the drug … the IV line … shit!

Sam had to give these fuckers credit by being able to distract Sam long enough to be able to administer the drug into his system.

"Sorry Demon Spawn … but you are coming with us."

Sam gazed at this strange figure out of bleary, unfocused eyes, not really seeing or caring about anything else around him. His big brother lay in the middle of the room in a pool of his own blood, bleeding to death and Sam … Sam had gotten _distracted_.

"Sorry Dee," Sam murmured, no longer able to fight with his heavy eyelids, closing his eyes and was immediately swallowed up by the oblivion of unconsciousness.

 **TBC**


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy. I have no knowledge or training in medical areas. I have tried to keep everything as realistic as possible, but, as medical knowledge is not my area of expertise, just beware that there may be some mistakes in the next few chapters.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Mimmi85** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE**

Sam drifted in the void; the void between unconsciousness and consciousness, vaguely aware that something was wrong. He should be fighting to escape this void, to escape from this unknowing state to full awareness, but the reason as to _why_ that was so important escaped him.

All Sam knew for certain was the feeling of uneasy dread that filled him, his mind hollering at him in panic to wake up! Wake up now before it was too late!

Before what was too late?

Images of an unknown figure, standing over his hospital bed invaded his groggy mind. He saw himself try to fight this stranger, but he was weak and couldn't hold out for long until Sam heard a familiar angry, protective voice coming toward him and Sam immediately felt a calmness and a feeling of warmth spread throughout him.

 _Dean_ , he thought, that name bringing him hope, love, security, affection … Dean … his big brother was here. If Dean was here, Sam _knew_ that he was safe. He knew that Dean would help him with this stranger who … wanted to drug him or … poison him.

Sam couldn't recall _why_ this person was attacking him. All he knew was that Dean was here and Dean would save him. Sam was one hundred percent confident about that. He no longer had to worry or fear that this stranger would drug him and poison him or drug him and take him away.

Why would this stranger want to take him away? Why was this stranger attacking him? Why the hell was he in hospital in the first place?

Sam's mind couldn't process all of these confusing images; they didn't make any sense to him what-so-ever. But, that didn't matter because his big brother was here. Dean would help him to remember what had happened; Dean would make this nasty figure who was attacking him go away; Dean would –

Dean was in the middle of the hospital room, sprawled out on the floor, urging Sam to run, his green eyes loosing focus, fighting valiantly to stay conscious for Sam's sake … but Sam could see the light … the life draining from his big brother's eyes, blood appearing as if by magic, to surround his brother's fallen form.

No! Dean had been shot! He had to wake up! He had to help his brother before he died!

"Dee …" Sam said barely audible, squinting his eyes open, fighting the urge to fall back into the void as he anxiously tried to locate his fallen and bleeding out sibling.

Sluggishly, Sam's head finally obeyed his command to move and he was able to see Dean lying upon the floor, pale, unmoving. There was so much blood! Too much of _Dean's_ blood upon the ground, gushing out of Dean. He looked … he looked as if he was … dead.

No!

"Nu … oh! Dee …" Sam tried to lurch forward, to rush to his brother's side and help him, but it wasn't until now that Sam _felt_ unfamiliar hands upon his arms, pulling him to his feet.

Oh fuck!

Sam could barely move his head, let alone any other limbs as he was jerked into an upright position, vertigo descending upon him so badly that he thought he was going to vomit or pass out cold. He probably would have fallen flat on his face if it hadn't of been for these two … bastards who had hold of his arms, Sam's weight distributed evenly between the two of them.

Still, Sam would much rather have fallen flat on his face or vomited all over the place rather than have these unfamiliar hands on him. It was too soon. Too soon after … what Sicko and the other Hunters had forced Sam to endure … All Sam really wanted right now was Dean. But Dean was lying in a pool of his own blood, dying; and there wasn't a damn thing that Sam could do about it.

Panic and fear began descended upon Sam as these two strange men began to lead him out of the hospital room, Sam's feet trailing behind him, useless, away from Dean, his big brother, his protector.

"Nooo …" Sam wailed, his voice barely above a whisper as he desperately tried to shrug off these strangers hands and race to his brother's side.

But all Sam succeeded in doing was twisting his upper body slightly, causing one of the men's hold upon Sam's arm to shift upon his previously dislocated shoulder; and all Sam could feel was a blinding, surging, white hot pain go through him at the contact, causing Sam to cry out softly in agony.

"For fuck sake man, hold him!" One of the men hissed irritably as he had to reposition himself to take most of Sam's weight.

"It's not my fault he's as slippery as an eel." The other man complained loudly. "Besides, I thought you'd given him enough drugs to completely knock him out. Does this look like he's completely knocked out to you?"

"Shut up." The first man growled. "Let's just get him out of here before someone catches us. Taking him off those machines is going to alert the nurses' station that something's not right in here."

"If we're lucky, they may think he's dead." The second man snickered, securing his hold about Sam once more before the two of them proceeded to half-drag, half-carry Sam out of the hospital room.

Sam's eyes frantically sort out his big brother, willing his brother to not be surrounded in a pool of his own blood, to not be dying upon the hospital floor, to get up and rescue Sam from the two people who were taking him away from his big brother's warmth and protection.

"Deeaannn …" Sam cried out softly as he was dragged from the hospital room, his eyes losing sight of his big brother, his world slowly crashing down around him.

 **SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW**

Caelan Hagen was in the middle of punching in Elizabeth Cox's number, intending for her to warn the Winchesters of the danger they were in, Caleb weaving in and out of traffic, trying to get to the hospital as fast as they could, when Caelan's phone rang out shrilly, making Caelan almost drop his phone in surprise.

"Fuck!" Caelan swore quietly, trying to get his racing heart back in his chest before he glanced at the display screen, tempting to end the call because he really _needed_ to get in touch with the Winchester siblings, until he saw that it was Elizabeth's name displayed upon the screen.

Caelan swallowed hard, apprehension filling him as he accepted the call. "Lizzie," he greeted the doctor in an even toned voice. "I was just about to call you. I've been trying to get in touch with Dean but he's not answering his phone. I know that you're out of the Hunter's lifestyle, and I'm really sorry to do this to you but … can I give you a message to give to Dean? Or can you tell him to call me back ASAP? It's imperative that I talk to him immediately." Caelan blurted out in a rush, trying to keep his worry and desperation at bay. But the way that he had just babbled on like an idiot just now proved to Caelan just how highly strung he truly was.

Nothing but silence from the other end.

"Lizzie? Are you there? Is everything okay?" Caelan asked in concern.

"Oh God Caelan, I … I'm really sorry but … " Elizabeth's voice was tinged with horror and the way that she was gasping for air suggested to Caelan that she was panicked as well but valiantly trying not to show it.

"But what Lizzie?" Caelan inquired, shoving the sharp edge of trepidation aside, keeping his tone gentle and even, hoping to keep his friend calm as well. "What is it? What's happened?"

Elizabeth took a deep shuddering breath, and when she spoke again, her tone had lost a lot of its horror-filled edge, almost back to the no nonsense, professional tone that only doctors used. "There's no easy way to so this, so … Dean's had to be rushed into emergency surgery before he bleed out."

" _What_?!" Caelan hissed, his heart pounding against his ribcage, making it hard for him to draw a significant amount of air, vaguely aware of Caleb glancing at him in concern out of the corner of his eyes. "What happened?"

"We're not entirely sure what happened Caelan. I'm trying to gather all of the details as quickly as possible as we speak. I was on my way out." Elizabeth continued, a tinge of guilt to her tone now. "On my way home when I got a frantic call to come back immediately." Elizabeth paused briefly, trying to maintain her professional composure.

"It's not your fault Lizzie," Caelan said, automatically trying to reassure the woman on the other end of the line.

"Yeah, I know, I just …" she took another deep breath to get her emotions under control once more. "Dean was found in the room, bleeding profusely, unconscious. If he'd been left any longer, I'm not sure that anyone could have saved him."

Caelan drew in a sharp breath, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach at those words. "What … what happened to him?" he managed to get out of his vastly constricting throat.

"It appears as if he's been shot Caelan. I don't know … I'm not sure where he was shot or how badly because by the time I got to the room, Dean was already being wheeled into surgery."

"Okay," Caelan breathed, taking a deep breath of his own, trying to regather his scattered thoughts. "Okay … so, Dean will be _fine_ , right? I mean … after the surgery, everything will be good, right?"

"It's hard to say at this particular moment Caelan. It all depends on how the surgery goes. At the moment though, Dean's vitals appear to be steady and strong."

"Good." Caelan breathed a sigh of relief before another thought struck him. Oh shit, if Dean had been _shot_ , did that mean the kid was okay? "What about the little dude Lizzie? Is he okay? I bet he's freaking out over his big brother being hurt right about now." Caelan chuckled dryly.

Caelan was met by an easy silence this time, which set all of Caelan's protective alarm bells ringing at once.

"Lizzie?"

More silence.

"Sam's okay … right?"

Caelan heard a squeak and then a gulp. "How far away are you Caelan? I think it would be better if we … discussed this in person."

"Lizzie … _tell me_ ," Caelan half-demanded, half-pleaded, the panic that he had kept at bay so far beginning to over-run and consume him.

"Sam is …"

 _Please don't say dead_! Caelan silently begged, prayed to whoever may be listening.

"When I got back to the room, Dean was being rushed to surgery and there was a strange man who was knocked out with a gun beside him but … Sam was nowhere to be seen."

Caelan felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach at those words, his eyes closing to try and keep his emotions contained; an empty, cold feeling of failure filling him.

 _Oh God no, please not again_!

"What do you mean?" Caelan demanded tightly.

"Caelan, I'm sorry, but … Sam's missing."

 **CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH**

Sam drifted in and out of awareness, desperately trying to figure out what the hell was going on here. He knew he was being _carried_ somewhere, his head flopping back and forwards, the unusual motion causing nausea to well up within Sam, making it impossible for him to keep his eyes open for long periods as the two men carted him away quickly and quietly.

Sam could hear alarms blaring loudly behind him, hurried footsteps as people _ran_ through the corridors, responding to those alarms. And Sam could feel a soft smile of relief playing about his lips. Instinctively, he knew that these people who were responding to the alarms would be able to help his big brother.

Dean would be okay. Of that, Sam was certain. And it appeared as if the Winchester siblings had finally caught a break – even though both of their situations were dire at the moment. Dean possibly dying, Sam being taken to God only knew where – because as bad as it seemed … it was lucky that the two of them were in the hospital right now where Dean could get immediate medical attention that he would need after being shot by one of the two assholes who were now hauling Sam through the corridors of the hospital.

But … at least Dean would be safe. The doctors could _save_ Dean and Sam didn't have to live with the knowledge that he had caused his brother's death, much like he had caused his mother's death all of those years ago.

And if Dean lived, that meant there was a chance that Sam might be rescued. No matter where these guys were taking him, Sam was confident that Dean wouldn't stop looking for Sam until Dean had found him and brought him back home safe and sound.

Unless these guys were to kill him before the rescue attempt … But Sam didn't dwell on that morbid thought for too long because if they had wanted to kill him, they would have done it long before now … right?

"W … where?" Sam asked, his voice slurring around that one word, desperately wanting to know where they were taking him and what was going to happen to him.

The two men ignored him, their pace kicking up a notch at the flurry of activity behind them.

"Wh-where?" Sam demanded stubbornly, his voice a tad stronger now as he tried to dig his heels in to stop their advancement along the hospital's corridors, but all he succeeded in doing was stubbing his big toe which caused enough of a disturbance to alter one of the men's trajectory as he almost lost his balance, stumbling to the side, losing his hold upon Sam briefly before he regained his composure and strengthened his hold, pinching Sam's upper arm ruthlessly in the process.

"Cut it out Demon Spawn!" he muttered darkly into Sam's ear. "Unless you want me to go back and finish off your brother completely … you need to behave and act like a _good_ Demon Spawn. Are we clear?"

Sam hissed at the tightened grip upon his arm, the man's words almost making Sam's heart stop beating.

No. Dean had to live. He had to!

Sam met the man's steady gaze, glaring at him hatefully before he reluctantly lowered his eyes submissively. No matter what, he couldn't risk his brother's life. Dean couldn't die because of him.

The man smiled in triumph. "Good Demon Spawn," he applauded Sam sarcastically as the two men proceeded to hurry Sam out of the hospital.

 **SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW**

Sammy's missing?!

Dear God, how the hell did this happen? They just got him back and now … now Sammy was missing. This whole scenario eerily reminded Caelan of the conversation that he'd had with Dean when he'd had to tell Dean that Sammy was in trouble.

What the hell did this _organisation_ want with the youngest Winchester anyway? Was it a revenge thing? Had John pissed them off somehow and now they were taking it out on Sam? What the hell had that kid ever done to deserve this?

And not only was Sammy _missing_ but Dean … Dean had been _shot_. And where the fuck was John Winchester when his boys needed him? MIA, that's where Johnny boy was.

Fuck! Could this day get any fucking worse?

Caelan quickly ended the call with Doctor Elizabeth Cox, telling her that they'd be there as fast as they could; ten minutes at the most; before he turned to look out the window, quietly mulling over what decisions and actions they should be taking now in order to help both of his brothers survive this horrendous experience in one piece. Because, no matter what, Caelan was determined that _both_ Dean and Sam would be safe come morning.

"Hags? What's happening man?" Caleb's soft, not quite frantic voice pierced through Caelan's scattered thoughts. "Are Sam and Dean safe?" Caleb asked and Caelan could hear the tightness of anxiousness within his friend's voice.

Caelan couldn't help the brief, bitter laugh that escaped him. "No Hawkes, Dean and Sam are as far from safe as you could get. Long story short, Dean's been shot and Sammy's missing."

Caleb gasped, swearing profusely under his breath, his hands gripping the steering-wheel tightly. "Say what? What did you just say?" Caleb demanded, his tone of voice becoming deeper with anger. "How the hell did this happen Caelan?"

"The organisation bet us to the hospital I guess," Caelan shrugged indifferently, but Caleb could see the rage simmering within Caelan's deep brown eyes.

"Okay," Caleb breathed, trying to reign in his turbulent emotions. "So, what's the game plan Hags?"

"We continue to the hospital," Caelan declared assertively. "And we find out how it's possible for one of their _patients_ to go missing while his brother was shot; interrogate the security of the hospital and find out why the hell they did nothing to prevent Dean getting shot or Sammy being taken from right under their fucking noses!"

Caelan paused, his lips pressed into fine lines of determination. "If nothing else, we'll be there for Dean and be able to check the damn security camera footage ourselves. Besides," Caelan turned to Caleb to give him a lop-sided grin. "From what Lizzie said, one of the bastards who attacked the Winchesters got knocked out cold. At least we'll have someone to _question_ if we can't get any satisfactory answers out of the hospital staff."

"Sounds good." Caleb agreed shortly. "You told the Doc we'd be at the hospital in ten right? Well, as of right now, we'll be there in five. I'll drive _over_ these fucking assholes if I have to." Caleb promised.

Caelan nodded in gratitude, feeling slightly calmer now than he did before. Too many times tonight he'd been out of control, the situation feeding into his fear and anger. If Caelan had any chance of getting both of his brothers out of this, he had to stay calm and think rationally. And in order for Caelan to do that, he had to lock down his emotions for now and concentrate on getting the job done, like the professional Hunter that he was.

"It would be more impressive if you could get us there in three," Caelan challenged his friend, seeing a grin smirk across Caleb's features, letting Caelan know that Caleb had accepted his challenge.

Before Caelan could go into any more details about what Lizzie had told him during the phone conversation, Caelan's phone began to ring and vibrate shrilly once more.

"Now what?" Caelan rolled his eyes, exasperated before he let out a sigh both in relief and nervousness. "It's John," Caelan briefly explained to Caleb before he answered the call.

 **TBC**


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy. I have no knowledge or training in medical areas. I have tried to keep everything as realistic as possible, but, as medical knowledge is not my area of expertise, just beware that there may be some mistakes in the next few chapters.

 **Special Note:** Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Only a couple more chapters to go and this will be finished. This was supposed to be the last chapter, but me and endings … don't do so well, and I don't want to rush it. So, hopefully two more chapters at the most … although, I can't promise anything!

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER THIRTY**

"Caelan," John Winchester's low timbre came over the line, sounding tired and worried. "Are you with the boys?"

"Johnny," Caelan replied, and he couldn't help the relief settling upon him at hearing the oldest Winchester's voice. At least one member of his family was safe. "It's good to hear your voice." Caelan said which was his way of saying: _I was worried about you_.

"Yeah, you too," John said, his tone softening affectionately; which was John's way of saying: _I'm glad you're okay_.

"Winchester, you've got about five minutes before the nurse comes back and catches you on that phone. Make it quick." A gruff, familiar voice stated.

"Who was that?" Caelan demanded, worry beginning to gnaw at the pit of his stomach at those words. "What did he mean by "nurse"? Johnny, what's going on? Are you okay?"

"It's okay Caelan," John sighed wearily. "It's a long story and I can't go into it over the phone right now … you never know _who_ might be listening …"

Caelan swallowed hard at the note of panic and paranoia that he could detect within his surrogate father's voice. Oh God, he couldn't handle loosing _another_ father. That would definitely cause him to become mad from grief and Caelan wasn't entirely sure he would come back from that!

"Are you okay?" Caelan asked, his voice softening with worry.

"Yeah kid," John chuckled, trying to sound reassuring, but Caelan could tell that John's tone held a lot of pain in it. "I will be. Bobby's with me, so you don't need to worry."

 _Bobby? What the hell?_ Caelan couldn't help the shocked thought that darted through his mind. Since when had John and Bobby kissed and made up?

Regardless of how that had happened, knowing that Bobby Singer – someone who Caelan trusted completely – was with John right now helped Caelan relax slightly. He didn't have to worry; Bobby would protect John until Caelan could get there … wherever the hell _there_ was!

It was obvious that John was in hospital. What had happened and how he ended up there were questions that Caelan was anxious to know, because that meant that John _had_ been in trouble and had been attacked for him to end up in hospital.

It was on the tip of Caelan's tounge to voice those questions – and a hundred more that he was dying to ask – before he ruefully shook his head. Now was not the time to get into that discussion. He would have plenty of time to question John later.

"Okay," Caelan let out a soft exhale, basically telling John that he would let this go for now and that he trusted the older man's judgement.

"Are you with the boys?" John repeated, his tone tight with anxiousness. "I have reason to believe that they may be in danger."

"Yeah." Caelan agreed. "We've already figured that out!" he spat out bitterly.

" _Caelan_!" John's voice hardened and Caelan knew that John was ordering Caelan to tell him everything. "Are the boys okay?"

Caelan let out a long heavy sigh. "We haven't gotten all of the pieces of the puzzle, but … what we've learned isn't good." Caelan paused, bitting upon his lip nervously as he glanced across at Caleb, silently asking him how long until they reached their destination.

 _Two minutes_ , Caleb mouthed at him, continuing to drive as if he was in a rally race.

Caelan nodded in gratitude, knowing that _he_ wouldn't go into details over the phone either. "Look Johnny, it's a long story at my end too. I'm heading to the hospital now with Caleb but … there's something you should know."

"What?" John demanded breathlessly, worriedly. "Are _my boys safe_?"

Caelan closed his eyes, his right hand balled up into a fist. "No." he said simply.

A sharp hiss was heard from the other end of the line.

"Dean's in surgery … he was apparently shot." Caelan rushed on to explain. "And Sammy … Sammy's missing." He admitted softly, the fingernails digging into the palm of his hand at the thought that he had _failed_ his brothers.

"But Caleb and I are heading to the hospital now. We'll search every inch of the security footage in this damn hospital in order to figure out how the hell this could have happened." Caelan promised. "I'm sorry John; I know it's my job to protect them." Caelan continued, his voice fill of disgust and regret. " _I_ should have been there with them … they _were_ safe; they were fine and now … fuck Johnny, I'm going to _fix_ this, okay?"

"Calm down Caelan," John said soothingly. "I'm sure you did everything you could to keep the boys safe." There was a pause and then Caelan heard a long drawn out sigh. "I didn't want it to come to this, but I guess I don't have any other choice." He said so quietly that Caelan was convinced that John was talking to himself. "Right," John declared, his voice becoming strong and purposeful. "Give me two hours and then I'll join you. There's a phone call I have to make."

Caelan shivered violently at the tone in John's voice. "Are you going to call _him_?" Caelan inquired apprehensively, automatically lowering his voice as dread and relief filled him at the same time. If anyone could find the youngest Winchester, _he_ could.

"I don't think we have any other choice here Caelan," John replied in resignation. "But … I can't let _them_ take Sammy again." John's voice hardened with determination, decision made. And Caelan knew that no matter what Caelan said or did, he would not be able to sway John Winchester's mind or the decision he had made. "Get to the hospital; find out what you can; update me about Dean's condition when you can and I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Yes sir," Caelan answered automatically and he was not surprised when he was left listening to the dial tone. John Winchester had his mission; nothing and no one was going to stop him or get in his way now.

 **CH JW SW CH JW SW CH JW SW CH JW SW CH**

Sam kept hoping that by some miracle the hospital security would stop Sam's kidnappers before they exited the building. But, as usual, luck was not encoded within Sam Winchester's DNA and the two men were able to drag a semi-conscious Sam out of the hospital without any resistance what-so-ever.

They stuffed him into a non-descript van, not caring about the injuries Sam had already sustained, handcuffing _both_ hands above his head secured to a chain they had linked into the roof of the van.

Sam's left shoulder and broken left wrist screamed in protest, the pain causing Sam to bite upon his lower lip so hard that he could taste blood, in order _not_ to scream out in agony.

These sick fucks may have abducted him again, but Sam was determined not to give them the satisfaction of letting them see just how much pain Sam was in. Sicko had gotten off on Sam's cries of agony and his fear. Sam was not about to repeat his mistakes. No way were these guys going to see him trembling in fear or screaming in pain.

The van lurched forward, causing Sam to swing forward on his arms, just barely stopping himself from smacking his head against the iron cage that was erected to separate the front from the back.

Excruciating pain ripped through Sam's body, a small whimper escaping him before Sam could clamp down upon his emotions, redirecting his pain into anger as he glared at the only other person in the back with him, who was looking at Sam both nervously and with disgust.

"Wh- _where_?" Sam demanded, the effects of the drugs coursing through him making it almost impossible for him to stay awake. But because of the massive adrenaline rush that swept through him, Sam was able to keep the darkness at bay … at least for now.

"Where ta-kin' me?" Sam's voice rasped out, sounding weak and pitiful; and not intimidating or fill of wrathful fury like he had intended.

Sam's assailant sighed, deliberately ignoring Sam as he rapped upon the cage to get the driver's attention. "We shouldn't have left –" he shot a suspicious glance at Sam; trying to gage just how aware the boy was before he continued. "– _him_ at the hospital like that. We weren't supposed to leave any evidence of us being there behind. The Man is going to rip us to shreds because of that rookie mistake."

"Relax," the driver told his companion smoothly in a disinterested manner. "We achieved our main mission which was to secure the Demon Spawn. The guy we left behind was expendable. The Man will understand that it was beyond our control to retrieve him. Besides," the driver shot an accusing glance at his partner. "It's not like we could have covered our tracks completely considering that _you shot Dean Winchester_!"

"What was I supposed to do?" Nervous Nellie whined, pouting like a little child. "If I hadn't of shot Winchester, he would have shot you himself. I saved your life and now you're giving me grief?"

Sam's heart plummeted into his stomach at the mention of his injured sibling. Because of him, Dean had been hurt. It was like a reply of the night twenty-one years ago. His mother had died trying to protect him from The Demon, and now Dean … his big brother who had given him _everything_ ; provided him with the love, support, warmth, comfort and encouragement as only a _parent_ could offer to their _child_ was in danger of losing his life because he had tried to protect Sam from these cold hearted bastards who had wanted – and succeeded – to take Sam away from him.

Sam felt a bitter, almost hysterical laugh bubbling up inside of him. God, he _was_ nothing but a bad luck magnet; a jinx. His family would have been so much better off if he had never been born … or if he had died the night The Demon had come for him instead of his mother. Sam Winchester; bad seed; Demon Spawn, should _never_ have been conceived in the first place.

"Dee …" Sam murmured, his head hanging low in shame, guilt and remorse. "'M sorry," he whispered, silent tears falling down his checks out of his closed eyes, praying that at least his older brother would not die today because of him.

 **SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW**

Caleb hadn't even completely stopped his Ute before Caelan had flung open the door and was running full tilt into the hospital, only dimly aware of Caleb's pounding footsteps behind him.

Caelan felt a _burning_ need to get into the hospital and find out exactly what had happened to the Winchester siblings. He was the one who had suggested this hospital in the first place. So, in Caelan's mind it was up to him to make this right. He _had_ to find out what had happened, what had breached the hospital's defences and managed to attack his brothers while they were unprepared and vulnerable.

Did Elizabeth have something to do with this? Is that how the organisation had managed to breach the hospital's fail-safe systems? Her father and younger brother were part of this organisation. It stood to reason that maybe Caelan had been blinded by the affections and feelings that he shared with this woman, that he would have failed to notice that she too, like her father and brother was a part of this organisation.

Caelan hated to think that _his_ Lizzie would be involved with an organisation that had actively "punished" a Hunter's kid for years. He hated to think that she would betray him like this, by handing over his brothers to this organisation but … Caelan had been wrong in letting his feelings overshadow his gut instincts before and that had nearly ended up costing Caelan his life.

If Lizzie _had_ used him to get to Dean and Sam … the feelings he still harboured for her be damned … he _would_ destroy her! No remorse, no guilt, no second-guessing. He would obliterate her and her entire family!

"Easy Caelan," Caleb murmured soothingly against Caelan's ear, a hand placed upon Caelan's shoulder in both support and restraint. "You have that murderous look in your eyes; the look when you don't listen to reason and you just want to punch everything in your way until you get what you want."

Caelan turned to glare at Caleb, his mouth open to retort scathingly to his friend before he realised what Caleb had said. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, making a conscious effort to relax. "You're right. I should hear her side of it before I decide if I'm going to rip her to shreds or not. Because if she's double-crossed me Caleb … I _will destroy her_!"

Caleb almost flinched at the dark look of fury and possible betrayal within his friend's eyes, knowing that Caelan never made these types of threats lightly. "It will be okay Hags," Caleb kept his voice even and light, hoping to keep his friend's temper in check. Because if there was one thing Caleb had learned about Caelan in all of the years that they had been friends, was that Caelan would do whatever it took to protect the Winchesters.

"I know it will be Hawkes," Caelan forced a smile upon his lips. "Especially since I've got my trustee moral conscious and guide here beside me." Caelan lightly punched Caleb on the arm, grinning at Caleb's look of utter mortification at being referred to as a cricket before Caelan strode toward the front desk and demanded that they page Doctor Elizabeth Cox immediately, his tone lowering to his no nonsense, serious tone.

Within five minutes, Elizabeth Cox was standing before him, her checks flushed, her blue eyes shining with worry and guilt.

"Caelan," she gasped, embracing the man in a quick hug before she stepped back, instinctively cupping the side of his face within the palm of her hand in a soothing, supportive gesture. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, her blue eyes widening slightly in sympathy. "I – I don't know _how_ this could have happened."

Not unkindly, Caelan shook Elizabeth's hand off of his face, looking deep into this woman's eyes that he had once loved with everything he had, not finding a shred of deceit within them; and Caelan could help but relax at that revelation.

He honestly hadn't wanted to believe that Lizzie was involved in all of this mess. She had left the Hunter's lifestyle behind for a reason. Being involved in an organisation that incorporated the Hunter's lifestyle hadn't made sense to Caelan, but he hadn't been able to out rightly dismiss that option until now.

Thank God his instincts about this woman had been correct. He would have felt even worse if the Winchester brothers had been caught unawares and being attacked because of him.

Caelan waved a hand in Caleb's direction. "You remember Caleb, Lizzie?"

"Of course," Elizabeth smiled at Caleb warmly. "It's good to see you again Caleb."

"You too," Caleb murmured, shifting his feet, slightly uncomfortable and embarrassed now as everyone's eyes appeared to be focused upon the three of them.

"Tell me what you know," Caelan whispered as he grabbed Elizabeth's elbow, leading her out of the emergency room, motioning for Caleb to follow them.

"Not much," Elizabeth admitted regretfully. "Dean's still in surgery. No complications so far and if all goes to plan he should be out of surgery and into the recovery room within an hour."

Caelan nodded, the tightness within his chest beginning to ease a little at that news. "So Dean'll be okay," Caelan half-breathed, half-prayed.

"Yes, he should be," Elizabeth smiled. "From what I've been told … and it's not that much," Elizabeth continued. "The bullet has been successfully removed and they are working to stem the flow of internal bleeding. The surgeon will be able to give you a more thorough explanation once Dean is in recovery." Elizabeth stated apologetically.

"Okay." Caelan said, giving Elizabeth a quick smile of gratitude before he turned serious once more, knowing that there was nothing more that he could do about Dean's situation. "What do you know about Sam's abduction?"

Elizabeth winced, hanging her head dejectedly with shame, halting mid-step, causing Caelan and Caleb to stop with her.

"What Lizzie?" Caelan asked, becoming extremely worried now.

"It appears that whoever took Sam were skilled enough to destroy _all_ of the surveillance footage."

"Fuck!" Caelan swore softly.

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth said sincerely. "I've asked around and … _no one_ seems to have seen anything. Whoever these guys are Caelan, they're good."

"They used Dean as a distraction to get Sam out of here unnoticed." Caelan surmised. "But to have planned something like this … they would have had to have had inside help. Lizzie, tell me what you know about the security staff here at the hospital. I have a feeling that some of those bastards may be working for this God damned organisation."

" _The Organisation_?" Elizabeth asked in a low, shaking voice, her face paling dramatically, her blue eyes wide with terror. "Oh God Caelan, I didn't know that's who you were up against. Most of the staff here are … _part_ of the organisation. _Anyone_ could be involved with Sam's abduction."

 **CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH**

Sam must have slipped into unconsciousness, his despair overwhelming him because the next thing he came aware of was that the van had stopped moving and he could hear two raised angry voices from outside of the van.

Sam peered around the back of the van and noticed that Nervous Nellie and the driver weren't in the van any longer; it must be the two of them who were having an argument outside. For the moment, Sam was alone.

Gingerly, Sam tested the handcuffs and chains for any weakness that he could exploit. But just like Sicko had been, these two were obviously good at their job … kidnapping and securing Demon Spawn!

Sam sighed heavily, hating to be in this particular predicament yet again so soon after being drugged and abducted by Sicko and being forced to endure endless hours of torture … not to mention being shoved in that damn fucking box that Sam _detested_ with a passion and hadn't seen the sight of in years!

A shudder of revolution wormed its way up and down Sam's spine at the mere thought of that box. He would have great pleasure in using the damn thing for scrap metal to construct bullets or some other weapon that he could use against Sicko and his demented team of Hunters who seemed determined to keep him locked up and torture him for their own amusement.

Sam was so caught up in his own thoughts of doubt and despondent despair, that he almost forgot about the two men who were having a heated discussion outside of the van until he felt the whole side of the van shake violently, the sound of a body being slammed into the side of the van nearest him.

"Cut your cool, calm and collected attitude Owen! I know that you are loyal to The Man and he wants us to proceed with the pan of extraditing the Demon Spawn but … we have been ordered by _him_ to release the Demon Spawn immediately."

 **TBC**


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy. I have no knowledge or training in medical areas. I have tried to keep everything as realistic as possible, but, as medical knowledge is not my area of expertise, just beware that there may be some mistakes in the next few chapters.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Mimmi85** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Only a couple more chapters to go and this will be finished. This was supposed to be the last chapter, but me and endings … don't do so well, and I don't want to rush it. So, hopefully two more chapters at the most … although, I can't promise anything!

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE**

John Winchester huffed in frustration, irritation creeping over him at an alarming rate. Both of his boys were in trouble and here John was, stuck in this God forsaken hospital, arguing with a doctor who looked about twelve-years old about getting him released from hospital _now_ , and not in the next hundred years!

The twelve-year old doctor _insisted_ that John needed to at least stay overnight for observation least there were any complications or infections, telling John that he couldn't in good conscience allow his _patient_ to leave straight after having major surgery, suffering from an extreme case of blood loss.

John had been _furious_ at this doctor's obstinate behaviour, trying to explain to this young up-start that it was a matter of life and death; his sons were in trouble and he _needed_ to get to them ASAP. He'd even promised the doctor that he would check into a hospital to get a once over once he knew that his boys were safe.

But the doctor had denied John's request for immediate departure, telling John that he would be back to check on him in the morning and they would assess his condition then to see if John would be able to be released.

"Damn it!" John swore, his frustration steadily increasing toward anger now. "Bobby, you have to help me get out of here," John appealed to the other Hunter. "My boys are in danger … I _need_ to be there!" he almost pleaded, desperately. "Please Bobby, I promised Caelan that I would be there. Help me,"

Bobby Singer studied John closely, taking into account how pale and exhausted John looked. Hell, Bobby wasn't even sure if John had come off of the pain meds sufficiently for him to have decided to have made such a drastic decision as to bring _him_ into this whole mess.

Bobby could understand the doctor's concern at allowing John to leave of his own free will; the man looked like death warmed up! But Bobby also understood how much those boys meant to John. And there would be nothing on Earth to stop him from getting to them.

John would stubbornly push his own injuries to the side, behaving in sometimes a reckless manner if his boys were in trouble … Hmm, guess that's where Dean got his self-sacrificing nature from. Because Bobby also knew that there wasn't anything Dean wouldn't do for his family.

"Damn it Johnny," Bobby twisted his cap within his hands, pinching his bottom lip in between his teeth, gnawing about it as he glanced over his shoulder before he stepped closer toward John, his decision bordering fifty/fifty.

"You know, if we had more time up our sleeves, I'd be testing you for the whole lot right about now. You must have rocks in your head to _voluntary_ get _him_ involved again. Don't you remember what happened the last time _he helped_ you?"

"I remember," John conceded softly, a slight edge to his voice. "But I didn't have much of a choice Bobby. Those bastards have _taken_ Sammy again and I can't …" John's expression twisted in agony and Bobby couldn't help the sympathetic feelings swelling up within him.

Bobby loved those boys as if they were his own. Of _course_ he didn't want _anyone_ to have the youngest Winchester. And after what John had revealed to him about who they might be up against and who this organisation consisted of, Bobby liked the idea of them having the boy even less.

But … John had been hurt bad … _really_ bad, and he wasn't at the top of his game. If they had to get into it with other _Hunters_ , Bobby wasn't too convinced of how well John would be able to defend himself against an attack. John was one of the best Hunters that Bobby had ever seen, but even the great John Winchester had limits. He was only human after all. And if John pushed himself too far … Bobby wasn't entirely sure if John would make it.

John, as if he could sense his friend's wavering decision, allowed his tough mask to disintegrate, replaced by the worried, concerned look that only a father could portray when frightened for their children's safety and well-being. "Please Bobby … I _need_ to get to my boys."

Seeing the seasoned, hardened Hunter being so vulnerable and open with Bobby; displaying the fierce love and determination that he had for his boys, made Bobby's decision in a heartbeat.

 _Balls_! Of _course_ John would give him that _look_! The look that was reminiscent of his younger son's pleading, puppy-eyed look.

With a heavy sigh of resignation, Bobby replaced the cap to his head, all business-like and serious in a matter of seconds. "Okay Johnny, I'll help you. What do you need from me?"

John smiled in gratitude before his Hunter's mask descended once more as the two Hunters sat down to business, planning the details of how they were going to spring John's escape from this hospital.

 **JW CH JW CH JW CH JW CH JW CH JW CH JW**

Caelan Hagen shared an incredulous look with Caleb at that revelation. Of _course_ the fucking organisation would have to basically have owned _this_ hospital. They couldn't have gone to any regular, normal hospital. No, it had to be a hospital that the organisation had their slimy hooks in!

Damn, they had the worst luck in history!

Caelan could have blamed Elizabeth for this whole damn mess. Why the hell hadn't she _mentioned_ that almost everyone on the hospital's payroll was involved with this organisation? But, at that time, Caelan hadn't been aware of who they were up against and how far they were willing to go in order to obtain the youngest Winchester once more.

No. It wasn't Lizzie's fault. As much as Caelan wanted to lay the blame at her feet, he couldn't do it. The two of them had made the best decision with the information that they'd had at the time. It wasn't anyone's fault except this damn organisation's!

Wait a minute … if most of the hospital staff was affiliated with the organisation, did that mean that Lizzie …?

Caelan's eyes narrowed as he spun around to pin Elizabeth with a cautious, suspicious gaze. "Lizzie, tell me you're not a part of this," Caelan said, his voice low, distraught and hard at the same time.

"What?" Elizabeth's eyes widened slightly in fear; before she registered what Caelan was asking her. "You think _I_ had something to do with this?" she asked indignantly.

"Did you?" Caelan countered evenly, unmoved by her display of innocence. He knew how important it was not to underestimate an opponent … especially someone he once knew and loved.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to retort at Caelan's comments or to defend her innocence more before she slammed her mouth closed, tight lines of anger around her mouth, her blue eyes narrowing darkly. "I will _never_ be a part of that … _corrupt_ organisation. Really Caelan, I though you knew me better than that!"

Caelan shrugged, unconcerned by Elizabeth's obvious anger at Caelan's suggestion. But at this stage, he wasn't entirely sure who he could or couldn't trust. For all he knew, Elizabeth could be working as an undercover spy for the organisation.

"It's been _years_ since we've seen each other Lizzie; I wouldn't have a clue where your loyalties lie now. Besides, your father and younger brother seem to have no problem in being a part of this … corrupt organisation. Since you're employed here, surrounded by organisation members, it stands to reason that maybe your loyalty lies with _them_."

"You son of a bitch!" Elizabeth hissed, forcefully pushing Caelan away from her in a fit of sudden rage. "How _dare_ you! I didn't get this job because of my _Daddy's_ connections. I _earned_ this. With lots of sleepless nights and hard work. My father fucking _disowned_ me because as the oldest I wasn't following in "the family business".

And now you want to accuse me of _not_ being smart enough to become a doctor? Of planning it so that the organisation could come in here, shoot Dean and snatch Sam Winchester? Fuck you Caelan Hagen!" Elizabeth snarled, her voice not rising despite how angry she appeared to be, before she spun around, intending to storm off down the corridor before Caelan wrapped an arm around her waist to prevent her from leaving.

Caelan pulled Elizabeth against him, her back hard against his chest. "I'm sorry Lizzie," he murmured in her ear. "But I had to be sure. Dean and Sam are my _brothers_ and …"

Elizabeth relaxed slightly within Caelan's embrace. "It's okay Caelan, I understand," she replied softly, instant forgiveness in her voice. "I would have done the exact same thing in your position."

Caelan gently nuzzled Elizabeth's neck with his nose in gratitude, hearing her sharp gasp as she melted further into his embrace. Caelan couldn't help but grin in satisfaction, knowing that if he wanted to … he would be able to seduce this woman into his bed without even trying!

But letting her go the first time had been hard enough. Caelan wasn't too eager to repeat that experience again in a hurry, even if his heart lurched painfully in his chest at the familiar feeling of this woman in his arms; the smell of her hair, the …

"Sorry to interrupt guys," Caleb cleared his throat, blushing slightly at being witness to this semi-intimate moment between the old lovers. "But I'm really anxious to pound someone's head in. Didn't you mention that there had been a "witness" that had been left behind?" Caleb looked at Caelan pointedly.

Caelan grinned, instantly cheering up at that thought. Maybe all was not as hopeless as it seemed. Maybe they could figure out Sammy's location from this "witness". "Why yes, I do believe I did Caleb. I think it's about time that we … _question_ the witness to see what he has to say about all of this."

 **CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH**

Sam's heart leapt with hope at those words, now listening eagerly to the loud argument outside. Maybe he would get out of this alive after all.

"Fuck that!" The guy named Own snarled, his voice similar to the driver of the van. "I'm not scared of that half-breed _prick_! The Man assured me … _us_ … that we could get vengeance for our parents' deaths, because breaking the mind of the Demon Spawn would destroy the Winchester family forever. We deserve this Colin. After everything we've lost …"

"I know Owen," Colin said sadly, his tone softening slightly. "I also know that Mum and Dad wouldn't have died if it wasn't for me. If I hadn't gotten sick … and needed fresh meat, our parents wouldn't have been caught by those Hunters … Winchester and Hagen.

Don't think I don't know how much this means to you Owen. I want nothing more than to avenge our parents' deaths. But … we _can't_ go against … _them_. Especially _him_ … or as you like to call him that "half-breed prick". The Man can't protect us from _him_ Owen."

Sam heard a fist slam into the side of a van, leaving a very visible dent mark within the van, making Sam jump at the sudden destructive noise, confused and bewildered by these two … men's? … conversation.

If _Hunters_ had killed their parents … then just what the hell _were_ they? And Colin had mentioned the names Winchester and Hagen … was he talking about his Dad? Caelan's Dad? And what the hell could be so _powerful_ that non-humans – like Owen and Colin appeared to be – were afraid of involving _his_ wrath.

"Bullshit!" Owen spat out viciously. "This is meant to be _our day_ Colin! And now that _half-breed prick_ is going to _ruin_ it for us?! No! I will _not_ allow that to happen. I don't _care_ what our "orders" are … we finish what we started little bro. Do you understand Colin? For Mum and Dad … for _you_ … for _us_ , this ends today! Are you with me brother? Let's end this."

"Okay Owen," Nervous Nellie, aka Colin replied with sudden conviction. "I'm with you. Let's do this."

"Really _boys_? You're going to disobey a direct order from _me_?"

Sam tensed at the unfamiliar, yet somehow comforting and soothing voice as the two non-humans gasped in surprise and fear.

Before Sam had a chance to blink, the scuffle between the non-humans and their big bad boss, was over. The van door opened, the sudden sunlight making Sam's eyes water and blink rapidly as he desperately tried to see what was going on. Was this … _thing_ here to save him or kill him?

"Hello Sam Winchester," a soft, calming, almost musical voice called to him.

Sam squinted, dumbfounded by the gentle smile that graced this man's lips. This guy didn't look threatening at all. His deep blue eyes crinkled with kindness and sympathy and Sam had the strangest feeling that he had _meet_ this man before.

"Wha-who are you?" Sam gasped, not sure if he should be tensing, ready for a fight or if this strange, yet familiar man was here to rescue him.

"My name is Nirkish, Sam Winchester. Don't worry little one, you have nothing to fear from me. I promise. Your Dad sent me. I'm here to take you back to your family." He said calmly.

"Bu-but –"

"Be at peace Sam Winchester, you are safe now." Nirkish assured the young man before he placed his fingertips upon Sam's temple and willed the boy to sleep.

 **SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW**

Caelan turned to look at Elizabeth, grinning at her impishly. "You think that maybe you can sneak us in to see this "witness" Lizzie?"

For just a moment, Caelan could have sworn that he saw a hateful, disgusted, hard look within her eyes, but then it was gone and Elizabeth's more patented, concerned, worried look broached her features.

"After everything's that's happened here today … I guess I could try, right?" Elizabeth shrugged.

Caelan frowned, the tone within Elizabeth's voice not matching the woman's softer features. Something was going on here. Caelan was sure that he was missing a big piece of the puzzle. He just couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

"Don't worry Caelan, I've got this," she assured him, her smile bright and easy. "What's the point of being related to the _Stewart_ family and not exploiting all of the privileges that come with the name if not to help out your friends? After all, you'd treat _my_ brother with the same respect that you've treated your surrogate brothers … right Caelan?"

Caelan's frown deepened at Elizabeth's cryptic words. "Of course, I would Lizzie … as long as _he_ didn't participate in _torturing_ one of my brothers." Caelan couldn't help but retort because Elizabeth's comments had felt like an accusing jab … a verbal attack, even though she couldn't know what was going on, could she?

Caelan detected a darkness enter Elizabeth's eyes, confusing Caelan even more when a spilt second later her blue eyes were clear, only a slight twitch of her mouth to indicate her indignation.

"Well, I guess it's lucky that my brother isn't in the torture business then, isn't it?" she laughed, but it sounded forced to Caelan and he was starting to get a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Before Caelan could question Elizabeth further about her strange behaviour, Elizabeth was rattling off the room number of where this so-called "witness" was being treated for a nasty concussion that he had received before telling Caelan that she was going to check on Dean's prognosis before she pivoted on her heels and marched down the hall in the opposite direction.

Caelan watched Elizabeth leave, an uneasy feeling settling within him. "Hawkes … I have a bad feeling about this man," he murmured worriedly.

"Don't worry Hags," Caleb told him after a few minutes of contemplation, clapping Caelan on the shoulder reassuringly. "Don't know what crawled up that woman's pants and died, but you, my friend, have _always_ been far too good for the likes of a _Stewart_."

Caleb grinned at his friend's shocked look. "But if that bitch is playing with you again … I swear Caelan, I will _not_ hold back on telling her exactly how I feel. And this time … no matter what you say … she will regret the day that she messed with my friend." Caleb vowed, his light brown eyes hardening slightly before he squeezed Caelan's shoulder in silent support. "Come on Hags; let's go _talk_ to this "witness", shall we?"

Caelan was shocked for a few minutes at his friend's strong and sudden declaration before he blinked and smirked back at Caleb in agreement, his head once more back in the game. Time to talk to this asshole of a witness; find out where the hell they had taken the youngest Winchester and who the hell had shot Dean.

 **CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH**

Slowly Dean Winchester returned to the land of the living, feeling completely sluggish, his eyes barely popped open before he squinted them closed again because of the harshness of the overhead lights.

His tongue felt dry, heavy, fill of cotton wool and he would have had no qualms about killing someone for a glass of water right about now as he experimentally performed a self-examination of himself.

He could move all of his limbs, nothing broken, thank God. Nothing seemed out of place, no aches or pain anywhere, so that was something to be thankful for; except for a heavy sensation in his mid-section which became more uncomfortable if he tried to move or sit up.

Just what the fuck had happened to him? And where the hell was he now? The last thing he could remember was sitting diligently by his brother's hospital bed and then …

Fuck!

Dean could recall a burning, painful sensation before he'd found himself crumbled on the ground and someone … had been standing over Sam, getting ready to administer something into his IV line, except … it wasn't a nurse or doctor that Dean had been familiar with.

Shit! Sammy!

Dean's eyes flew open, his jumbled thoughts clearing in a heartbeat as he gazed around him in a frantic attempt to locate his brother.

"S'mmy …" Dean slurred, his dry lounge sticking to the roof of his mouth as he ordered his body to get up and move. Sam was in trouble and Dean … he had to find Sam; protect him. "Sam-eee … where … are … you?"

Panic began to consume Dean when his eyes failed to lock upon his brother's familiar face, and his feeble attempts at words brought no response from his younger brother at all.

Fuck, what the hell had happened to his brother?

 **TBC**


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy. I have no knowledge or training in medical areas. I have tried to keep everything as realistic as possible, but, as medical knowledge is not my area of expertise, just beware that there may be some mistakes in the next few chapters.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Mimmi85** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Did I say two chapters? Yeah, that's not happening, sorry. Just trying to tie up all the loose ends and boy am I struggling with that, but there is an ending in sight … just not quite sure when.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO**

"Sammy!" Dean practically screamed, terror flooding his system as his body finally obeyed his command to sit up.

Dean grunted in surprise, the sudden movement causing his wounded mid-section to flare to life with burning pain. But Dean had to ignore that. He had to push his own pain down because … Sammy obviously wasn't here. And if Sam wasn't here, it could mean either of two things; Sam was dead or those sons of bitches had _taken_ him again.

"N-no!" Dean growled, shoving his feet to the side, breathing through his pain as he struggled to pull his uncooperative body out of bed and into an upright position.

Dean _refused_ to believe that Sammy was dead. So, the only other option he had left was that those fucking assholes had _taken_ his brother.

Finally, Dean managed to pull his legs to the side of the bed, feet touching the floor, taking a couple of minutes to centre himself, valiantly trying to ignore the drips of sweat that cascaded down his body because of the exertion he was forcing his body to endure; the only thought in his mind was that he _had_ to find Sammy before those assholes _hurt_ him like Dead Fucker had done; before they decided to beat him, torture him and put him in that God damned awful box again!

Dean had to get to his brother now, before it was too late, before this round of torture completely broke something within Sam's mind forever, becoming out of even Dean's reach to be able to save him.

"Holy crap! Hey! Mr Winchester, you have to calm down." A pair of strong hands clamped down upon Dean's shoulders, holding him in place. "Sir, you have to stop moving around or you're going to pull out your stitches. Mr Winchester … lie down and get some rest."

"Get off of me!" Dean hissed, jerking his body away from those hands, trying to focus as he stared up at the male nurse before him. "Get your fucking hands off of me right now before I knock your teeth into the back of your throat!"

Dean's voice may have been shaking slightly, but that didn't mean that it wasn't filled with deadly venom and a poisonous threat.

The male nurse actually gasped, a look of fear within his eyes as he instinctively started to back away from this slightly crazy and deranged man.

"Easy Mr Winchester," he stammered gently. "No one's going to hurt you, okay pal? I just need you to calm down and relax. You're at the hospital; you've been shot and just spent the last few hours in surgery. So, unless you really want to cause yourself permanent damage, you will listen when I tell you that you need to get into bed right now and get some rest."

"Fuck you!" Dean spat out, his top lip curling in disgust and fury. "You tell me where the fuck my _brother_ is or I'm not listening to a damn word you say and getting out of here anyway. I would really like it if I didn't have to _hurt_ you before I leave. But if you get in my fucking way … so help me, I'll –"

"Dean!"

Dean's head snapped up at the sound of that familiar voice and he almost burst out laughing in relief when he saw Doctor Elizabeth Cox entering the room. Finally, someone who could give him some straight answers about what had happed to Sam.

"Doc," Dean's voice lost its deadly edge and he almost managed a half-smile for the doctor's benefit. "Am I glad to see you! Tell me Doc, where's Sammy? What happened to him? Is he okay? Please, tell me he's okay!" Dean was half a beat away from begging, so overcome with worry that he couldn't contain it any longer.

Elizabeth offered Dean a sympathetic smile before she turned to the male nurse. "It's okay Jenkins, you can leave, I'll get Dean Winchester settled."

The nurse glanced from the doctor to Dean and back again, unsure if he should leave the female doctor alone with this highly unstable, volatile man.

Dean would have been impressed by the silent conversation between the Doc and the nurse if he wasn't so damned worried about his brother and anxious for news.

The nurse nodded slightly before glaring hard at Dean in warning before he left the room and closed the door behind him.

"Doc, where's Sam? Is he … I mean, he's not …"

"Dead?" Elizabeth supplied before she smiled in gentle reassurance. "No Dean, Sam's not dead …

Dean breathed a huge sigh of relief at that news, knew he had been over reacting, but he couldn't help that when it came to the safety of his baby brother.

… At least, as far as we know anyway."

Dean's head shot up at those words. "What does that mean?" Dean demanded, his heart pounding against his chest almost painfully; his big brother senses screaming at him, letting him know that Sam was far from okay and that he needed help now.

Dean's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Sam's here right? I mean … he's safe and secure in his hospital room, right?"

"I'm afraid not," Elizabeth reluctantly admitted, her blue eyes shining in sympathy. "Sam's … missing."

What?!

Shit!

"Fuck!" Dean cursed under his breath, not allowing himself to give into his despair or guilt right now; instead, Dean squared his shoulders, a determined calm coming over him, knowing that nothing else mattered except to find Sam and bring him home!

"Dean! Wait!" Elizabeth placed a hand upon his arm, preventing Dean from struggling to his feet once more. "You're in _no_ condition to search for your brother right now. You need to stay here and rest. You'll be no good to your brother dead, Dean."

Dean opened his mouth to argue with the doctor before the logic of her words hit him. As much as Dean hated to admit it, the Doc was right. The way Dean was feeling at the moment, he wouldn't last ten steps before he collapsed. But … it wasn't in his nature to let his brother suffer if he could help it. His brother needed him and –

"Caelan," Dean gasped, the answer suddenly so obvious and clear. "Doc, I need my phone. I need to talk to Caelan immediately." Dean stated, his voice deadly serious and urgent. "Please, I may not be able to _physically_ search for my brother, but Caelan can."

Elizabeth looked into those insistent, pleading, drop-dead gorgeous green eyes and she felt her resolve weakening, wanting to give into the man before her, but …

"I'm sorry _Dean_ ," she said softly, her body automatically stiffening up, tight lines of anger around both her eyes and mouth. "But I'm afraid I can't allow you to call _anyone_."

Dean blinked, confused.

"After what _you_ did to my brother … did you really think you would get away with it?" Elizabeth scoffed, her pretty features scrunched up into a look of contempt and disgust.

Dean's eyes widened when he caught sight of a familiar figure coming to stand quietly beside Elizabeth, a delighted smirk of satisfaction upon his lips, making him appear almost ghoulish because of the extensive bruising to his face.

"You!" Dean snarled, recognition flaring brightly within him, his natural instinct to get out of this bed and finish what he had started with this Hunter earlier.

Peter Stewart stood there, grinning at Dean smugly. "Pay backs a _bitch_ … isn't it Winchester?"

Dean turned accusing eyes to the petite doctor, whom Dean had thought he could trust. Obviously, he was wrong. And that just make Dean's anger all that more intense, furious that this woman had been able to _play_ him from the minute the Winchester siblings had entered the damn hospital.

" _You're_ behind this?!" he spluttered incredulously. "You working with _them_ to help _torture_ my baby brother?!"

Elizabeth flinched at Dean's words, shooting a doubtful look in Peter's direction. "You helped to torture Sam?" she asked, her gaze intense as she studied her younger sibling's body language carefully.

"Don't listen to him, he's _lying_!" Peter denied Dean's claims loudly. " _He_ was the one who attacked me Liz! Look at what he did to my face!" Peter gestured to himself, an indignant, hurt look crossing his face at his sister's accusations.

Dean scoffed, more than a little impressed by this man's ability to evade the issue while being able to pin the blame back upon Dean's shoulders.

"What? You got something to say _Winchester_?" Peter snapped at Dean, blue eyes flashing dangerously in warning.

"It doesn't matter," Elizabeth sighed tiredly, placing a hand upon Peter's arm to still her brother's rising agitation. "The fact of the matter is, you caused my brother _harm_ Dean. And no matter the circumstances, no one is allowed to hurt my brother."

Dean couldn't help but nod in acknowledgement at the protective flare within Elizabeth's eyes, instantly understanding exactly what Elizabeth was say; because Dean felt the exact same way about Sammy. No one was allowed to put their hands on Sammy, even if he did deserve it.

"Fair enough," Dean reluctantly conceded. "I see your point. But don't expect an apology out of me for what I did. You _saw_ the state Sam was in when I brought him in. And your brother _helped_ to hurt _my_ brother."

Dean paused, his lips curling into his fearless smirk. "If I'm being completely honest Doc, your brother got off easy. If I'd known what condition I'd find Sam in … I doubt I would have let the little bastard live!"

"Why you –" Peter started forward, intending to shut this cocky little bastard's mouth, but Elizabeth held out her arm, preventing him from advancing.

"Don't let him manipulate you into a fight Peter. That's exactly what he wants." Elizabeth reprimanded her silently seething sibling.

"So, what happens now, _Doc_?" Dean asked, his lips twisted into an unpleasant sneer. Whatever respect this woman had gained with him was completely gone now. "You gonna whisk me away like you did with Sam?"

"Maybe," Elizabeth replied evenly, not intimidated in the least by the injured Hunter before her.

"You do know that you won't get away with this, right? Sam and I … we have _people_ who will look for us. So, whatever you're planning … it's a waste of time. Caelan will –"

" _Caelan_ won't be able to help you Dean," Elizabeth told Dean, her tone hard and cold. "He won't be able to help either you or Sam." She declared confidently.

"Why? What are you going to do to him?" Dean inquired, a sickening feeling of dread worming its way through him. "Don't you hurt him, you _bitch_! If you fucking hurt _either_ Sam or Caelan … I swear to you that I _will_ hunt you down and –"

Dean's threat was cut off abruptly when Peter moved forward to restrain the Hunter as Elizabeth smoothly injected _something_ into Dean's vein.

"Get off of me!" Dean s screeched, furious, bucking his body wildly as he tried to overthrow Peter Stewart and stop his evil sister from drugging him.

On any other day, Dean would have been able to beat this pansy Hunter with his hands tied behind his back, but Dean wasn't at one hundred percent and unfortunately Peter was effectively able to subdue him.

"Get off of me, you crazy bastard!" Dean demanded in a fit of rage.

"Ssh, calm down Dean," Elizabeth said in a mockingly soothing tone. "Just relax. Soon you won't be feeling any pain or regrets … you won't feel much of _anything_ once my father is through with _reconditioning_ all three of you."

Elizabeth laid a gentle hand upon Dean's forehead, smiling with pleasure when she noticed the drug beginning to take effect. "I'm sorry Dean, I truly am, but … being reconditioned is a lot better than being _dead_." She tried to assure the weakly struggling Hunter. "Right … Peter, let's get prepared for Caelan, shall we?"

No!

Dean tried to move his body, but the more he struggled, the more he seemed to be pulled under by the drug the evil bitch of a doctor had given him.

Caelan … Dean had to warn Caelan that this was a trap, was the last thought to cross Dean's mind before he succumbed to the darkness of unconsciousness once again

 **DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW**

Caelan and Caleb rounded a corner and came upon the room where the "witness" to Dean's shooting and Sam's abduction was being treated ... contained.

A grim look of determination crossed Caelan's features, the security footage may be damaged and unrecoverable, but Caelan vowed that he would do whatever it took to get the information of where this organisation had carted the youngest Winchester off to.

After everything he and Dean had gone through today in order to rescue Sammy from these bastards; only to have them recapture him again …

No, Caelan wasn't about to let them get away with it a second time. He was going to find Sam. Even if he had to go through every single member of this organisation to do it!

Caelan shared a look with Caleb and knew that his friend would back him up no matter what they had to do or who they had to go through to achieve their goal.

Steadying himself, Caelan was about to push open the door, before he spotted Elizabeth Cox practically running toward them, a worried, concerned look upon her face.

Oh shit, now what?

"Caelan," Elizabeth said, slightly out of breath, looking extremely ruffled, gesturing frantically for Caelan to follow her. "You need to come with me right now." Her tone leaving no room for argument.

"Why? What's wrong?" Caelan asked, instantly on alert because of Elizabeth's tense attitude and because of her strange, swinging behaviour.

"Dean's awake," she replied, and Caelan couldn't help the wide smile that he felt upon his lips, not understanding the woman's reservations because to Caelan, this was good news. If Dean was awake, that meant that the surgery had been successful and his best friend/brother was going to live.

"Dean's awake … and he's _pissed_." Elizabeth elaborated, running a nervous hand through her hair. "You have to come with me immediately, before he hurts himself further or one of the staff have him up on assault, or before the security marches his ass out of the hospital for good."

"Oh." Caelan frowned slightly, Elizabeth's agitation finally beginning to make sense now. Dean was awake. But knowing Dean like Caelan did, all the older Winchester sibling would be worried about is the condition of his younger brother. And not being able to get that information or a straight answer from anyone would cause Dean to become irrational, his worry quickly turning into frustration and finally anger because all he would want is to see his little brother as soon as possible.

If someone didn't calm Dean down, Caelan had no doubt that Dean would rip the whole hospital apart in order to get a simple glimpse of his brother.

"Okay," Caelan nodded, knowing that if Dean had already reached the aggravated and violent stage, then the only two people who could calm Dean down now was Sammy and himself.

Caleb slapped a hand upon Caelan's shoulder and grinned at him encouragingly. "You go Hags, I've got this," Caleb assured him. "This "witness" will be telling me things he'd be too embarrassed to tell his mother by the time I'm through with him." Caleb promised, a dark edge coming into his light brown eyes.

"Thanks," Caelan said. "Be careful." He added before he turned and followed Elizabeth down the corridors of the hospital at an extremely hurried rate.

Ten minutes later, Caelan was standing outside of recovery, slightly out of breath, a puzzled frown upon his face at hearing no disturbance at all. The place was eerily quiet; too quiet if Dean Winchester was indeed in freak-out, protective older brother mode.

Caelan turned to Elizabeth and was surprised to find tears within her blue eyes, her bottom lip trembling violently as she hung her head in shame.

"I'm sorry Caelan," she whispered. "I tried to keep both you and Dean out of this, I swear. But …"

Caelan closed his eyes, his heart pounding against his chest as he suddenly realised that this was a trap. And Lizzie … she had been in on the whole thing. God, he was so gullible and naive to believe _anything_ that she had said.

But Caelan had wanted to believe that she was still the same woman that he had fallen in love with ten years ago. Obviously, he should have listened to his gut and not his heart.

"Lizzie, what have you done?"

Elizabeth met Caelan's accusing, sad betrayed gaze and couldn't help but swallow convulsively at the anger burning within her former lover's eyes. She _knew_ what Caelan was like when he was hurt and betrayed like this by the people that he loved and trusted completely.

But, Elizabeth didn't have a choice. She'd _had_ to help her father and the organisation recapture Sam Winchester for the retribution and honour of her father's name. Dean Winchester and Caelan Hagen had crossed the line when they had _hurt_ her little brother and dared to disrespect the Stewart name by treating Peter with such callousness and cowardly behaviour. They had this coming … all three of them.

But … Elizabeth _knew_ that she couldn't stand the organisation and what it stood for. She _knew_ her father had disowned her _years_ ago … so, why did she have recent memories of her father reinstating her back into the Stewart family for helping him reacquire the Demon Spawn and luring the older Winchester and her former lover into a trap that had been set specifically for them?

Conflicting emotions and memories boiled within Elizabeth until only one true thought remained, drowning out all of the other doubts that she had. Dean Winchester and Caelan Hagen had _hurt_ her little brother and for that, the two of them had to pay!

Elizabeth shook her head, back on track, the mission and objective clear in her mind once more. "Daddy's _furious_ that both you and Dean hurt Peter, even though he'd given you both a free pass; a grace period from the organisation's tracking team to eliminate you immediately. Now, because of what the two of you have done to my brother, Daddy decided to … teach both of you a lesson you're not likely to forget in a hurry. He's going to take both you and Dean away for … reconditioning."

Caelan stared at Elizabeth blankly, a cold, empty numb feeling filling him. God, how could he have been so _stupid_ as to believe her lies?

And now, not only was Sammy missing, but it looked as if both Dean and himself were going to go missing as well … maybe permanently missing.

 **TBC**


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy. I have no knowledge or training in medical areas. I have tried to keep everything as realistic as possible, but, as medical knowledge is not my area of expertise, just beware that there may be some mistakes in the next few chapters.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **kandilyn** , **Cheetah Grrl** and **Souless666** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Did I say two chapters? Yeah, that's not happening, sorry. Just trying to tie up all the loose ends and boy am I struggling with that, but there is an ending in sight … just not quite sure when.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE**

John Winchester was hunched in the passenger seat, fingers tightening in a death grip on his phone, desperately willing either Caelan or Caleb to call him and let him know what the fuck was happening.

It had been nearly two hours since Bobby had helped to sneak John out of the hospital and in that time, even though John had repeatedly tried to make contact with either Caelan or Caleb, neither Hunter were answering their phones. And John's mild concern was now hitting full-blown worry because neither Caelan or Caleb were the type of people to disobey a direct order from John Winchester … especially when it was _his_ _sons_ on the line.

The only explanation John could think of for why neither man were answering their phones or contacting John, was that the two of them were now in trouble as well, along with both Sam and Dean.

John peered at the speedometer before glaring hard at Bobby. "Come on Bobby, surely this truck of yours can go faster than this! Put your foot down on the accelerator and get us to the boys now! My boys … all of them are in trouble Bobby. We need to get there as of yesterday!"

Bobby scowled in John's direction, opening his mouth to retort with a few choice, selective, not so _nice_ words of his own, before John's phone rang within John's clenched hand, cutting Bobby off before he even had a chance to begin; which was just as well, because knowing John like he did, John would no doubt have gotten offended by Bobby's colourful reply and eventually it would have caused the two older Hunters to exchange heated words that both of them would probably regret once they'd had a chance to cool off.

Bobby understood John's desire to get to his boys as fast as possible; he understood the helpless feeling of not being able to _do_ more for them because they were stuck fucking travelling, trying to reach them in time. And even though Bobby understood and sympathized with the man, yelling and screaming at Bobby wasn't going to make them get there any faster! John had to be a little bit patient … yeah, right! John Winchester patient? That would happen as soon as pigs could actually fly!

Bobby couldn't help but scoff at that thought before turning his attention to the road once more, one ear listening into the conversation John was participating in over the phone. By the sound of the man's tone, it wasn't one of the boys who had called him, but it was fairly obvious that John knew this caller, even if he didn't particularly like the person he was talking to.

"Really?" John asked and Bobby saw a little of the tension leave the other man. "You found Sammy, that's great." John stated, flashing a relieved smile in Bobby's direction.

Finally, something was going right for them for a change. "And is Sammy okay?" John paused, listening to the reply on the other end, looking a little bit calmer and less desperate than he had earlier.

John nodded. "Yeah, we're on our way there now. Shouldn't be more than a couple of hours, but … " John hesitated, not wanting to ask this _man_ anymore favours, but not seeing any other way out of this. Even if _he_ decided not to help with Dean, Caelan and Caleb, _he_ had to be warned of the obvious trap so that Sammy wasn't snared within the organisation's grasp yet again.

John swallowed his pride, laying everything he knew out on the line, explaining that he hadn't heard a word from _anyone_ who had been at the hospital and that it was likely a trap to lure them all into one place so that the organisation could get rid of all of the people who they perceived as posing a threat, who could stand in their way and end up bringing the organisation down to their knees.

John listened intently to _his_ reply, murmuring in agreement every few seconds before John suddenly bristled stiffly, anger flashing within the depths of his dark eyes. "Of _course_ I haven't forgotten our deal!" John snapped, insulted that _he_ would think that John would renege on the bargain the two of them had struck when _he_ had offered to find and retrieve Sammy from the clutches of the organisation.

"You don't need to worry about _me_ Nirkish; I honour the deals I make." John proclaimed in a cold voice. 'Yes, I remember the conditions. Don't worry; the boys won't know a thing … _what_? … Well, _I_ can't decide that for him. That will be something _you_ will have to talk to Sammy about. Of course … I'll see you in four weeks."

John hung up the phone and slowly turned to meet Bobby's questioning, worried gaze. "Sammy's okay," John told him, a tired smile pulling at his mouth. "And if all goes to plan … we should be hearing from the boys … all _three_ of them … within the next hour."

Bobby raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"Don't worry Bobby, I've this under control." John assured his old friend.

Bobby looked far from convinced. "Johnny … what the hell did you _promise_ to do for that … _person_? You know what _he's_ like. And whatever you've agreed to do … I know it ain't a good thing."

"Leave it Bobby," John snapped irritably. "It doesn't matter. As long as my boys are safe, nothing else matters. I would make a damn deal with the Devil himself in order to keep my boys out of trouble! Especially since _none_ of this is their fault.

This damn organisation _targeted_ Sammy because of what … because of _The Demon_. But, I'll tell you this right now Bobby … they will regret the day that they messed with my baby boy. Everything they've done to him … I will be only too glad to return the favour." John promised.

Bobby couldn't help but shiver in apprehension at the harshness and finality within John Winchester's voice, knowing that no amount of prodding from him would get John to say any more about this _deal_ that he had apparently struck with … _him_ … and knowing that John would find a way to follow through with that promise, no matter what he had to do or who he had to go through to achieve it.

 **JW DW JW DW JW DW JW DW JW DW JW DW JW**

Dean's eyes flew open; a gasp on his lips, looking about him wildly as everything came crashing down upon him with blinding clarity.

They had been betrayed by the Doc, she had appeared to be on their side, treating Sam with professional compassion, including Dean in every detail of Sam's medical health, his recovery and how best to make Sam comfortable while recuperating from his injuries, even to the point of getting Dean's input on which staff members would help Sam with his daily medical needs and care. Dean had thought that she was one of the good guys. Boy, had she played him for a sucker!

Dean moaned loudly when he tried to manoeuvre into a sitting position forgetting about the gunshot wound to his abdomen, in his haste to get the hell out of here, find Sam and reconnect with Caelan.

Shit … didn't the Doc say something about setting a trap for Caelan? Fuck, Dean had to warn him before it was too late … if it wasn't already too late."

"Hey, Winchester, are you back in the land of the living?"

Dean's head swivelled so fast in the direction of that voice that Dean almost gave himself whiplash, instantly on high alert at the sound of the unfamiliar, yet familiar voice.

Dean blinked to clear away his blurry vision and couldn't help the groan of dismay that escaped him when Peter Stewart's ugly mug appeared before Dean's eyes.

Instinctively, Dean's hand shot forward and he was pleasantly surprised when his fist connected with Peter's jaw, hearing a harsh oath escape Peter as he cradled his aching jaw within his hand.

"This is the thanks I get for helping you out!" Peter grumbled, taking a cautionary step back from Dean in case he decided to throw another punch. "Especially since it was _me_ who switched the vials with my sister, so that you would only be knocked out for ten minutes instead of hours."

"What?" Dean blinked, still a tad disorientated. "You helping me out?" he retorted sarcastically, pushing himself into a sitting position, bitting upon his bottom lip to keep in the sudden nausea and pain that movement caused.

But Dean couldn't be flat on his back; that made him look weak and feel vulnerable. He had to equal out the advantage one way or another … or at least have equal footing. " _You're_ the reason we're in this mess to begin with!"

Peter winced, a flash of guilt within his eyes before it was gone again, replaced by his superior, contradicting, smug smile. "It's okay to admit it Winchester … I know I've grown on you."

"Yeah, right!" Dean spat out, infuriated by this … _boy's_ ego. Dean was surprised that Peter had lived this long, positive that he wasn't the only Hunter that Peter had pissed off!

"Between you and your evil bitch of a sister … I'm definitely feeling the love! I wouldn't _ask_ you for your help if you were the last person on Earth! I think I'll take my chances without your input thanks." Dean replied sarcastically. "Besides, after I escape from here, you and me have a little appointment with each other."

Peter raised his eyebrows quizzically.

"Yep, it's where I get to _show_ you what happens to the sons of bitches that put their God damned hands on my baby brother!" Dean growled, his voice low, fill of threat and dark promise.

Peter tried to shrug off Dean's threat, trying to act nonchalant and disinterested in Dean's promise, but Dean could see the spike of fear within the Hunter's eyes.

"All right, that's enough you two," A new voice spoke as he appeared on the other side of Dean, followed by another Hunter that Dean owed a serious beat-down to, who went to stand beside Peter Stewart.

"C-Caleb?" Dean couldn't help but be shocked by Caleb's sudden appearance. Dean had known that Caelan had called in Caleb for help in dealing with Peter and Hank – who now stood beside Peter – but Dean had been too busy getting Sammy to the hospital to talk to the Hunter, much less think about him.

Slowly, Dean's shocked amazement at seeing Caleb vanished, replaced by a slow burning suspicious feeling. Why was Caleb here, with these two … _clowns_ , when he should be out there backing Caelan up?

Oh hell, did that mean that _Caleb_ was working for the organisation? Had they been betrayed by one of the few Hunters that Dean trusted with his own life?

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

An intense feeling of grief and rage washed over Sam as he furiously paced the length of the living room in a rundown shack that Sam didn't recognize at all, but at the same time he felt completely familiar with it.

"Damn it!" Sam heard himself snarl in a stranger's voice, feeling more agitated and frustrated than he had ever felt in his whole life. "Now what the hell am I supposed to do? This plan of yours is not working! John Winchester has escaped from the hospital … obviously he is very much alive, after _you_ told me you would _handle_ him!"

Sam shot a disdainful look at the body of a man who was laid out upon the couch as he continued to pace, his rising emotions swirling within him, almost out of control.

"You _told_ me that the old-school Hunters would be taken down by the organisation once we framed them for the abduction and non-consensual torture session of the Demon Spawn. That's why you told me to call in Peter Stewart and Hank Adams and ordered me to leave to make it look like Peter and Hank had only done what their fathers requested them to.

But they haven't been brought down at all! In fact, now _we_ look like the traitorous ones. And everything you told me … is a lie!" Sam screamed.

Before he quite knew what was happening, Sam was standing over the dead body, a helpless, aching feeling of loss intermingled with the other emotions that raged throughout him.

"I did _everything_ you asked of me! I trusted you and believed in you and now … now you're dead?! Killed by the man whom you swore to destroy because he had allowed his Demon Spawn off-spring to be born, being responsible for _your_ beloved Mary's death!

You're pathetic!" Sam shouted, deliberately spitting upon the dead man's face. "I hate you! I fucking hate you … do you hear me Dad?"

 _Dad_?! This man wasn't John Winchester! Confusion filled Sam, none of what his … other self? … Dream self? … said was making any sense. Sam didn't know this dead guy … did he?

Hang on a minute … was that Marc Ley-Lamp? A Hunter that Sam recalled from his child-hood who had befriended his Dad after Connor Hagen's death and whose name and face still caused Sam to shiver in dread, fear clutching at his very being, even to this day, even though he didn't know _why_ he should have such a violent reaction to this man.

This wasn't his Dad! This could _never_ be his Dad … so, why the hell did he _feel_ as if it was his Dad? Just what in the hell was going on here?!

"I hate you for leaving me here by myself!" Sam's voice cracked, almost on the verge of sobbing even as he began to pound his fists against the dead man's chest in both despair and anger. "You fucking _lied_ to me! You told me … you told me that I could have him … _claim_ him for myself. You said that after today … after I _broke_ him that little Sammy Winchester would be mine forever!"

What the _fuck_?!

What the hell sort of _dream_ was this?

Dream Sam squeezed his eyes shut, tears slipping down his checks as he continued to pound against his dead father's chest. "Fuck you, you bastard! _I hate you_!"

Strong fingers enclosed around Sam's wrists, preventing him from connecting with the dead man's chest once more.

Sam jerked his eyes open, staring in shock as, the man who he knew to be dead, groaned softly as he slowly opened his eyes.

"D- _Dad_?" Sam asked, his voice shaking in confusion. "But … you're dead! How're you …?"

"Still alive?" The previously dead man supplied, smiling gently as he reached out a hand and caressed Sam's check lovingly. "It was you, my boy. You brought me back to life by harnessing your power."

 **SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

Dean's eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets as he stared up at Caleb, unable to comprehend that this man would betray not only him, but Caelan as well. Caelan had _vouched_ for him, believed in him and now …

Dean swallowed hard, forcing himself to remain calm because he honestly didn't know what was going on here. For all he knew, this could be part of an elaborate plan that Caelan and Caleb had cooked up together.

Regardless of anything else, Caleb _deserved_ to explain himself. After everything the man had done for the Winchesters, the least Dean could do, was to hear him out. And if it turned out that Caleb was working for this organisation, then that would just be another name added to Dean's hit list of people he would _personally_ deal to later.

"Hey Dean," Caleb smirked down at the younger Hunter, relief evident upon his rugged features. "Glad to see you're doing better. Thought Hags was going to "flip out" when he heard that you'd been shot!"

Dean's eyes widened slightly at Caleb's use of the code word "flip out", which meant for Dean not to panic and that everything was under control.

Caleb grinned at Dean. "Should have known it would take more than a bullet to take a Winchester out." Caleb teased good-naturedly.

Dean grinned back at Caleb, relaxing slightly at Caleb's playful jab, feeling more than convinced that Caleb hadn't suddenly switched sides on them as he shrugged nonchalantly. "What can I tell you Caleb … Winchesters are just "made tougher" than you lot!" Dean answered, able to throw in a code word of his own, basically telling Caleb that he trusted his judgment and would follow the other Hunter's lead when the time came.

"Guys!" Peter's whining, annoying voice interrupted them. "We don't have _time_ for this. Liz will be back any minute now with your fag _boyfriend_ …"

"Speak for yourself!" Caleb snorted, looking from Peter to Hank and then back to Peter again knowingly.

Peter blushed deeply at Caleb's dig, speechless as he stared at Caleb, dumbfounded.

"But _Peter_ is right," Caleb conceded with a sigh. "We're going to have make this explanation _quick_ before the head of the Stewart family shows up and decides to take _all_ of us away, never to be seen or heard from again."

Dean's jaw jutted out defiantly. "Just let them _try_ and take me!" he muttered, his green eyes darkening, his lips twisting into a delighted smirk. "I've been wanting to _hit_ something all day!"

Caleb mimicked Dean's smirk. "Yeah, right there with you Dean. But right now, let's just stay alive long enough to get Caelan and Sam back and _then_ we can talk about whose head goes rolling for this first."

"Agreed," Dean consented to Caleb's plan, knowing that even though his mind was willing for a brawl, he wasn't too entirely convinced that his body could follow through with that desire. "Okay, so what's the plan? And why are these to boozo's helping us?"

Peter threw an indignant scowl in Dean's direction and looked as if he was going to reply in some scathing manner, but Hank's hand on his arm instantly stilled Peter as the two of them shared a look before Peter lost his arrogant scowl and sighed deeply.

"Don't worry Winchester, this is the last thing that I expected to be doing; teaming up with you two … _adrenaline junkies_ , but my father … he crossed a line tonight that I never thought he would be capable of."

Dean could see the intense anger and hurt within the depths of Peter's blue eyes, shocked to realize that this Wannabe Hunter could exhibit any other emotion other than smugness arrogance.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut; clenched fists at his sides, shaking with a rage that Dean almost recognized and could relate to.

Hank placed a hand upon Peter's shoulder offering support and reassurance, seeming to give Peter the strength he needed to continue.

When Peter opened his eyes, he seemed more composed and in control of himself, even if his voice shook and wavered, contradicting Peter's act of remaining calm and neutral. "I'm sorry Caleb, but I don't think that my father ever intended to honour his deal between you and Hagen. It was obviously a ploy to give him more time to …"

Peter choked back on a sob, looking Dean straight in the eye, letting Dean see the honesty within them. "Liz, she's a _good_ person Dean, she really is. She got out of being a Hunter when Father joined the organisation. She said that it was corrupt and a disgrace to our family's prestigious name and we would be dishonouring the hunting lifestyle if he decided to join.

Father, of course, didn't listen to a word that Liz said, too damn stubborn and determined to do it his way. So, rather than watch us destroy ourselves, Liz left the hunting life and pursued her goal in becoming a doctor. Father immediately disowned her, and so it was up to me to carry on in the family tradition and business.

If Liz was in her right mind, she would _never_ have betrayed _any_ of you. But my father, he … he was so damn angry that he couldn't think straight.

Before he'd heard about the predicament I was in, another Hunter by the name of Marc Ley-Lamp, and fellow member of the organisation had accused my father, Hank's father and other old-school Hunters of going against the organisation's codes of ethics to engage in kidnapping, drugging and using … illegal experimentation upon another Hunter's child."

Wait … was he talking about Sammy? Was he referring to Sam's abduction and torture session that he and Caelan had walked in on earlier today? Did this whole thing loop back around to Sam? Why was it that after everything that Dean had learned today, his baby brother seemed to be in the centre of it all?

Dean gritted his teeth together, trying to keep his rising frustration and anger in check. It didn't matter to him how _badly_ these bastards _wanted_ his brother … they weren't going to have him. Sam belonged to him! And one way or another Dean would make sure that these sons of bitches would _never_ lay a hand upon his Sammy ever again!

 **TBC**


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy. I have no knowledge or training in medical areas. I have tried to keep everything as realistic as possible, but, as medical knowledge is not my area of expertise, just beware that there may be some mistakes in the next few chapters.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Cheetah Grrl** and **Mimmi85** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Did I say two chapters? Yeah, that's not happening, sorry. Just trying to tie up all the loose ends and boy am I struggling with that, but there is an ending in sight … just not quite sure when.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER THRITY-FOUR**

"They were set up Dean," Peter continued in a forlorn voice, and it took Dean a moment to wrap his mind around what the hell Peter was talking about, his mind filled with the need to protect his baby brother from every piece of scumbag out here who may want to hurt him.

"To take the rap for something that Marc had devised up years ago and so, in order for my father to redeem himself, he had to … bring the Demon – ah … your brother to the organisation's leaders immediately."

Peter paused to regather his thoughts, slightly put off by Dean's sudden glare and low growl of warning when Peter had almost slipped up by referring to Sam Winchester as the Demon Spawn.

"Father had already put his plans into effect before I arrived at the hospital, managing to _coerce_ Liz's obedience through the organisation's warped techniques of … brainwashing … or as they like to call it _reconditioning_."

Ah … it made sense now why Dean had recognized Peter's rage from earlier. It was the type of rage that you felt when someone had hurt your sibling almost beyond repair.

"My father had everything set in place, but then we received orders to stand down and release … Sam Winchester immediately. Father couldn't accept that, wouldn't _believe_ those orders were true and so he's proceeded to continue with this suicidal mission, hoping to restore his honour within the organisation once more.

I can put up with a lot of things that my father has done – hell, I've even agreed with some of the decisions that he's made – but this … drugging and mind- _raping_ _my sister_ … that's where I draw the line and how I know that he as to be stopped.

Unfortunately, I can't beat him by myself, which is why I was hoping to team up with you guys and bring the bastard down before he gets all of us killed with his obsessive, manic, suicidal mission of restoring his God damned image both in the hunting community and the organisation.

What do you say Dean? You want a chance to get your brother back and save your precious buddy, Hagen? Then, the only hope we have of beating my father is for us to unite forces for the time being. After we get this mess sorted and everyone gets what they want, we can go back to hating each other. Sound fair?"

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

"M-my power?" Sam stuttered, bewildered and perplexed by his father's words. "What are you talking about? I don't have _powers_!" Sam exclaimed, a sudden panic beginning to settle within him.

"Oh my boy, yes you do," Marc pattered Sam's check affectionately. "I'm sure you have lots of questions," Marc continued, attempting to rise into a sitting position. "And I will tell you … everything you want to know and more," he promised, falling back upon the couch in frustration when he didn't have the strength to push himself into a sitting position. "Help me!" he gasped, holding out a hand to Sam.

Sam took the hand and helped to ease his father into a sitting position.

Thanks," Marc smiled briefly at Sam before his expression turned serious once more. "But right now, I need you to give me a report on where we are with our ultimate game plan … and where the hell John Winchester is."

Sam gulped nervously as Marc's expression darkened with sudden intensity.

"So I can return the favour and slit _his_ fucking throat!"

Sam shifted uncomfortable, not willing to go into detail about how the ultimate game plan was _failing_ in more ways than one, considering that his Dad could change from one mood to the next in a blinding flash. Sam had been caught many times on the receiving end of his father's volatile, instantaneous temper.

Marc motioned Sam into the chair beside him as he sat forward eager to hear Sam's report.

Sam sat in the chair indicated by his father, twisting his hands together nervously, a surreal feeling overtaking him as he gazed into the now very much alive and expectant face of his father.

It hadn't been too long ago that Sam had been contemplating giving his Dad a Hunter's funeral … and now, here he was, alive … claiming that Sam had brought him back to life using powers that Sam didn't even know he had. Maybe he was going crazy …

"Son … report," Marc commanded in a slightly harsher tone.

Sam shook his head; he could worry about all of this other stuff later. For now, he was once again filled with purpose and meaning because his father was alive and could direct his actions once more.

A sense of peace and calm overcome Sam as he proceeded to give his father a less than positive report on how their ultimate game plan was progressing.

 **SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

Dean found himself looking at Caleb for confirmation of Peter Stewart's almost outrageous claims. All of this had happened – Sammy being drugged, kidnapped and tortured – because of _one_ Hunter's desire to bring down the old-school Hunters? Dean had been shot and Sam recaptured because Stewart's _Dad_ had a hard-on for keeping his family's rep intact?

It all seemed so … ridiculously childish, petty and stupid. _Why_ were grown _Hunters_ behaving like bratty little kids who couldn't get their own way?

"It's all true," Caleb confirmed. "I know it's a lot to take in all at once, but Stewart and Adams here are going _against_ their fathers and their precious organisation in order to help us out. Not to mention possibly being ostracised from the hunting comminuty for betraying their families."

Peter seemed to pale visibly at Caleb's words, shooting a doubtful glance in Hank's direction. He hadn't _thought_ about the consequences of their actions and what others might think of them going behind their fathers' backs.

All he'd thought about was stopping his father's out of control obsessiveness before he got all of them killed. And the fact that he was furious with his Dad for _reconditioning_ his sister, make his choice an easy one.

But now … because of his impulsive actions, had he condemned Hank and himself to a life where they wouldn't _belong_ anywhere? Were they going to be shunned by everyone they ever knew or loved?

Hank, almost as if he could read Peter's panicked thoughts, clasped Peter's hand within his own and squeezed firmly, his smile gentle and reassuring, even as his light green eyes sparkled with love and understanding.

In his own way, Hank was telling Peter that no matter what happened, the two of them would be okay as long as they were together.

Peter relaxed under his partner's loving reassurances and smiled back at him in acknowledgment. Of course they would be okay. And maybe … maybe this would be the best thing that could have happened to them.

Peter knew that his father would not react kindly to his son's betrayal. Peter would no doubt be banished and disowned – much like Liz had been years before – or possibly hunted down and slaughtered … Peter wouldn't put _anything_ past his father now, not after _drugging_ his own daughter, their father would be and could be capable of anything!

But the thought of being disowned didn't invoke as much panic in him as he thought it would, because in an odd way, both Hank and himself would be _free_ to finally be _together_ ; out in the open without fear of tarnishing their families' names or reputations. They wouldn't have to hide in shame and humiliation anymore, and Peter found that thought liberating. Free to make their own choices, their own mistakes; not having to worry about offending anyone or upsetting their precious families reputation because of their preferred lifestyle.

For the first time in his life, Peter felt the stress and tension of years of built up family obligations leave him, an air of calmness and relief flooding through him, realising that after tonight – no matter what happened, win or lose – Peter was quite prepared to turn away from the Hunter's lifestyle altogether and walk out into the sunlight, his lover's hand wrapped around his own, free to do whatever the hell they pleased because they would no longer have any responsibilities or family duties to contend with ever again!

Not bothered or caring about the other two Hunters in the room with them, Peter leaned down and placed a tender kiss upon his lover's lips, smiling in satisfaction when Hank's lips softened, eagerly surrendering himself into Peter's embrace.

Dean gawked at the sight of Peter and Hank sharing a passionate kiss. Huh. He honestly hadn't thought that these two swung that way. Not that he really cared either way, it was actually refreshing to see that even the _elite_ old-school Hunters had desires and passions of their own that they couldn't ignore and would no doubt be highly frowned upon within their circle of wealthy old fashioned family value and network of friends.

But as soon as their hands started to grab at each other, that's when Dean had to draw the line. A passionate kiss was one thing, but Dean didn't want to have to sit here and watch a full on make-out session between the two men!

Dean coughed loudly to get their attention, while Caleb shoved hard against Peter's shoulder, not surprised to see the angry blue eyes glaring hard at the two of them in protest.

"Now's not the time for you two to be engaged in a lips-locking competition." Dean said, his voice low and full of authority. "Tell me your plan so we can all get the hell out of here and I can go back to kicking your ass for hurting my brother!"

Dean swivelled to take in Hank standing beside Peter, looking slightly dazed after his passionate kiss. "And don't think I'm going to leave you out of the fun either _Hank_. I haven't forgotten that you had a hand in hurting my brother as well!" Dean smirked at the startled looks upon both Peter and Hank's faces.

"Okay Dean, let me walk you through the plan …" Caleb shot a glance at Peter and Hank before returning his attention back to Dean and explaining their slightly crazy but simple plan.

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Dream Sam took a deep breath, not sure exactly where to begin, so he began with what he _did_ know, what he'd experienced first-hand. "I left Stewart and Adams when you initiated Protocol Four …

A nervous feeling settled in the pit of Sam's stomach at those words, recollecting when Sicko had bragged to him about how he was going to abandon his … accomplices and leave them to take the blame for what had been done to Sam.

… and immediately came to your location, as already prearranged." Dream Sam gritted his teeth together, anger flaring up within him as he reencountered what he had witnessed. "I parked in an empty park and it wasn't long before you emerged with John Winchester. I watched him get the drop on you and slit your throat –"

"I already know that part!" Marc growled, raising his eyes at Sam's scathing tone. "Do you have something to say to me _boy_?"

Sam swallowed hard at his father's dominant, rough tone. "N-no sir, of course not."

Marc eyed Sam carefully before he nodded, seeming appeased as he gestured for Sam to continue. "What happened after that son?"

"I followed John for hours, trying to find some way to make him pay for killing you. I almost lost him in this hick of a town, but then I caught back up to him and when the coast was clear, I ran him off the road."

"That's my boy," Marc smiled, his pale eyes gleaming with pride.

Sam swelled with his father's praise before he proceeded. "John's truck was totalled, but I wanted to make sure that _asshole_ was dead; so I pulled him from the truck and stabbed him in the gut."

Marc's eyes twinkled with delight at that news, encouraging Sam to go on.

"Before I could completely finish the job, I heard sirens approaching and I knew that I had to get your body out of there. I knew that John would be at the hospital, so after I got you settled, I returned to the hospital only to discover that … I was too late."

"What do you mean you were too late?" Marc asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, tight lines of disappointment and disapproval etched upon his brow.

"I – I'm sorry Dad, but John … he'd already left the hospital by the time I'd gotten there." Sam admitted quietly, watching his father's reactions closely, noticing by the tone of his voice that his Dad was starting to get irritated; which could quickly lead to anger, then rage and then –

"You let him escape?!" Marc screeched, his eyes clouding with intense rage before Sam felt a solid fist to the side of the head, which almost sent Sam tumbling out of the chair.

Tears blurred Sam's vision, at the instant pain he could feel, the side of his face throbbing, knowing that the best thing he could do when his father's moods ran hot and cold like this was to stay silent, not get in his way and to ride it out. Hopefully his recently back from the dead father wouldn't feel the need to beat him into submissiveness or unconsciousness this time.

"How the hell could you let him get away?!" Marc raged, his voice rising with each word that he spoke. "I taught you better than that _boy_!"

"Well, forgive me if I was a bit emotional at the time and wasn't thinking straight!" Sam found himself retorting bitterly, even when he urged himself to stay silent. "Your _dead body_ was laid out on this couch and I had _no clear orders_ on what I should do next! You were dead … and I didn't know what I was supposed to do. So, yeah, I was a little _off_ my game … _sue me_!

But, you _know_ that I would have eventually tracked John Winchester down and gutted him like the pig he is for what he did to you! I just needed some damn time to get used to the fact that you were dead!"

Silence filled the room at Sam's outburst as the two men silently stared at each other, each of them gauging the other, trying to determine what the next move would be.

Marc stood up, aggressively pulling Sam to his feet before he roughly pulled Sam into his arms, into a very rare and awkward hug (at least for Sam, he never enjoyed displaying his affections in public … except when it came to enjoying sexual pleasure, then he would be as cuddly and affectionate as his partner wanted).

"I'm sorry son," Marc whispered soothingly in his ear. "I know that you would have avenged me eventually. But you did even better than that. You, my son, brought me back to life. And I can't ever repay you for doing that … except … to recapture the Demon Spawn and allow you to have him by your side for as long as you want."

Sam brightened instantly at those words, excitement coursing through him at all of the fun he could have with _his Demon Spawn_.

"Come my son," Marc pulled away, stroking Sam's hair gently. "Let us pack our things and proceed with the plan, shall we?"

Sam smiled in agreement, eagerly dashing into the bathroom, packing up his personal items before he looked in the mirror, seeing a small trail of drying blood from his split lip.

Sam gasped, noticing a familiar looking scar down one side of his face, his pale blue eyes shining with pleasure, even as his lips twisted into a delighted smirk.

Panic and horror swept through Sam, instinctively wanting to flee this place. How the hell was it that Sam could see _Sicko's_ reflection staring back at him?

Terror clawed at Sam's mind as he mentally _pushed_ himself away from this image, this place, determined that when he opened his eyes, he would be _him_ again – Sam Winchester – away from this psychotic freak who had caused him such anguish … both physically and mentally.

Wake up!

He wanted to wake the hell up now!

 _NOW_!

 **SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW**

Caelan glared up at Elizabeth as she urged him into the room, feeling like a complete and total _idiot_ for ever having trusted Elizabeth _Stewart_ Cox.

He didn't care if his own life was in danger, but the fact that because of his ignorance, he had unintentionally brought unforseen danger and harm down upon his _brothers_ , made this an especially hard and bitter pill to swallow.

"Why are you doing this Lizzie?" Caelan asked, desperately trying to reason with the woman in front of him, because none of her actions tonight was making any damned sense to Caelan at all!

Why would this woman stand here, vowing allegiance to her _father_? The very man who had given Elizabeth an _ultimatum_ ten years ago – to give up her relationship with Caelan, dedicating her life to the family and the Hunter's lifestyle, or continue to be stubborn, refusing her father's influence and advice at the expense of losing not only her prestige and wealth but also the very man that she claimed to love. Basically, her old man had threatened to have Caelan killed if she continued a relationship with him – who had _disowned_ her for leaving the Hunter's lifestyle and her family, and now Elizabeth was standing here _defending_ him?!

This was _not_ the same woman who had stood up to her father, refusing _both_ options of his ultimatum and deciding to choose her own path, free of her father's vast influence and controlling ways.

Caelan had been deeply hurt by Elizabeth's actions all those years ago, because he had been willing to follow her to the ends of the Earth and all the way into Hell if need be, just to be near her; because he had loved her that much.

It was only recently – three years ago in fact, the first time Caelan and Elizabeth had seen each other since she had abandoned the life and _him_ seven years ago; after Caelan had been seriously injured in a hunt, another Hunter bringing him to Elizabeth's hospital, that the both of them were able to let go of their deep bitterness and regret and work toward rebuilding their fractured relationship to the point where they could at least talk civilly to each other without rude or snide comments – that Caelan had finally come to understand why Elizabeth had left him behind while she pursued her new life; her new objective in becoming a doctor; and even taking another, new man into her bed.

She had explained to Caelan that she had to leave Caelan behind, not only to protect him from her father's never ending wrath, but also because he was a constant reminder of the life that she could no longer have.

Caelan had represented more than just being her lover. He was everything that she was deliberately running away from, trying to avoid in order to remake herself and start her life fresh.

Even after learning about Elizabeth's reasons as to why she had left him, it still hurt like hell to think of her walking out on him all those years ago. And every time Caelan saw her again, it caused Caelan's heart and soul to crave for the one woman he knew he could never have and had so easily let her slip through his fingers. The wound that she had left within his heart, once again festered and burst wide open, a gaping hole … an ache … a longing … just by the simple act of _seeing_ her again.

"This isn't _you_ Lizzie," Caelan insisted, refusing to be ushered into the room and into a trap, hoping that he could somehow _convince_ Elizabeth to change her mind about continuing to participate in this course of action, by talking some damn sense into her.

"Why are you going along with your father's plans? He _disowned_ you Lizzie, with no remorse or guilt, after you decided to leave the life. I don't understand this Lizzie … I don't understand _why_ you would choose _him_ over me after he _forced_ you out of his life … _my_ life.

After everything we've been through … please Lizzie, I just want to understand why you are betraying me … betraying the _Winchesters_ who have nothing to do with this … with _us_. They've done _nothing_ to hurt you or your family."

An array of emotions flickered within the blue eyes that Caelan could have spent an eternity looking into; anguish, doubt and confusion making brief cameos upon her delicate features.

Caelan held his breath, cautiously optimistic that he may have been able to change her mind after all. If she was exhibiting emotions such as doubt, then surely she knew that what she was doing was wrong.

As suddenly as those emotions had appeared, they disappeared, Elizabeth's expression turning cold, hard and impassive, effectively closing herself off from Caelan and his words.

With a sinking heart, Caelan _knew_ that he had lost the battle to persuade her with reason, calm and logical alone. He was obviously going to have to resort to other … more drastic measures in order to get her to see the errors of her ways.

 **TBC**


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy. I have no knowledge or training in medical areas. I have tried to keep everything as realistic as possible, but, as medical knowledge is not my area of expertise, just beware that there may be some mistakes in the next few chapters.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Souless666** , **Mimmi85** and **Kas3y** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Got another chapter after this one, almost written; Will hopefully be able to wrap this up soon; all the loose ends and subtle hints that I have given throughout will hopefully be making a lot of sense soon. Thanks to everyone for their patience and continued interest.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE**

"Right!" Elizabeth scoffed bitterly, sarcastically. "The Winchesters haven't hurt my _family_? Are you serious Caelan? _Dean Winchester_ personally pummelled my little brother's face, breaking his nose and fracturing his jaw in the process."

Elizabeth's blue eyes flashed with protective rage. "No matter _what_ Peter did, he didn't deserve that sort of treatment from a _fellow Hunter_!" she snorted disdainfully. "Sorry Caelan, but I'm with Daddy on this one. Dean needs to _pay_ for what he did to _my brother_."

Caelan sighed loudly, aggravated and frustrated at the same time. "That's not fair Lizzie," he reprimanded her gently, disappointment within his tone. "Dean was only trying to protect _his little brother_ as well. Surely that's something even you can understand?"

The instant that scathing comment left Caelan's mouth, he regretted it when he caught sight of the hurt upon Elizabeth's face.

"Look Lizzie, this whole thing … it's spiralled completely out of control. Both you and Dean have done things today in order to _protect your brothers_. Let's just take a step back from all of this, admit that some things happened that probably shouldn't have … but before you take this final plunge into _madness_ and deliver us to your father … and Sammy to the _organisation_ on a silver platter … you need to decide if this is truly what you want to do.

You have all of the power here Lizzie," Caelan continued in a softer, placating tone. "You can decide to follow through with your father's plans or … you can choose to walk away now before things get even more out of control than what they are now. You can stop this Lizzie. Just walk away Little Bird … _Please_ …"

Elizabeth bit her lip, pain visible within her eyes. "I can't," she whispered, pleading with Caelan now, her expression softening before she placed a soft kiss upon Caelan's lips. "I'm sorry Caelan, but I have to do this in order to _protect my family_."

She pulled back, caressing Caelan's check softly, urgently searching his expression before she smiled a sad, tired smile. "You will understand _why_ I've had to do this Caelan; I promise. One day soon you will know why I've chosen the actions I have today and why I had to leave you ten years ago."

Elizabeth paused, discreetly pulling something out of her coat pocket and placing it in Caelan's hands, closing his fingers around it, looking into his eyes, trying to tell him something, but damned if Caelan knew what it was.

Elizabeth stretched forward to bring her lips against Caelan's ear, her whispered words making Caelan's eyes widen in alarm, worry-lines stretching across his brow. Elizabeth gave him another soft, accepting smile before masking her features once more as she pushed Caelan into the room, slamming and locking the door behind her.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, leaning up against the door, praying that Caelan would be able to forgive her for this one day, silent tears slipping down her checks as she pulled out her phone.

"It's done," she said in a wooden, emotionless voice. "Caleb, Caelan and Dean have all been successfully separated just like you ordered. What would you like me to do next?"

 **CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH**

Sam bolted into a sitting position, gasping for air, his eyes wide with terror, frantically feeling his face and breathing a sigh of relief when he didn't feel a scar running down one side of his face, relaxing even more when he felt his long fringe flop into his eyes because Sicko had much shorter than Sam.

Thank God, he was _him_ again! All of his _normal_ feelings flaring within him, none of the debilitating feelings of rage and grief he had felt while within Sicko's mind.

Wait … is that what happened? Had Sam been within Sicko's mind? Or had he just had a very unusual and vivid dream?

It had _felt_ real to Sam. Much like when he had dreamed … seen? …. his Dad in trouble and being stabbed. Maybe … maybe Sam was picking up on Sicko's feelings and images. Although _why_ Sam would pick up on _anything_ relating to Sicko, remained a mystery.

Still, Sam couldn't deny the connection that seemed to exist between the two of them. Because he knew, for a fact, that Sicko and his newly resurrected father were coming for them … all of them … to finish off what they had started years ago.

Sam felt a shudder run up and down the length of his body, suddenly feeling repulsed, disgusted … _unclean_ at having been in Sicko's mind – whether dreamed or real – his first reaction was to feel _safe_ again. And the only person who had ever made Sam feel safe was his big brother. Instinct took over Sam's muddled thoughts, automatically calling for his brother's aid.

"Dean," Sam was surprised that his voice had no volume or power behind it what-so-ever.

Where the hell was _he_?

Sam moistened his dry lips with his tongue, trying to keep the crippling panic from overwhelming him completely. He was sure that Dean would be here somewhere. Dean was _always_ here when Sam needed him the most.

"Dean," Sam tired again, dismayed at the barely audible crack that emerged from him.

Damn! What the hell was this? Was Sam still _stuck_ in his nightmare?

Sam's heart thudded loudly in his ears, straining to see something of his environment that he recognized. But all Sam could make out was the blur of scenery that was speeding past his window, only now registering the low rumble of a vehicle – definitely _not_ the Impala – transporting him to God knows where.

A hand upon his shoulder almost made Sam jump out of his skin as he slowly turned his head toward the owner of the hand, half expecting to see Sicko or Marc Ley-Lamp grinning sadistically at him.

Instead, all Sam could see was intense, comforting, worried blue eyes … much _different_ than the blue eyes from the abandoned warehouse. These blue eyes were deeper, darker, holding warmth and compassion instead of spite and smugness.

Without knowing exactly _why_ , Sam felt his body sag with relief, as if it somehow _knew_ that Sam was no longer in any danger.

As Sam's mind began to clear a little, he realized that he knew these eyes. This was the man who had helped Sam escape from the … non-humans who had abducted him from the hospital.

"Are you okay Sam Winchester?" The Familiar Stranger asked, sweeping his eyes over Sam's face, concerned at how pale and sweaty the young man was beside him.

"Dee …" Sam gasped, wanting to see his big brother now more than anything else in the world. "I need … to see Dean,"

"Don't worry Sam Winchester, you will be reunited with your brother soon enough."

Sam nodded at the comforting tone, words and voice at this almost stranger, and against his better judgement, he felt his suddenly too heavy eyes begin to close.

Sam didn't _want_ to sleep again. He didn't _want_ to be pulled back into that crazy dream, surrounded by the crazy bastard who had beaten, tortured and broken him for years. He wanted to stay here … even if he was sitting next to a familiar stranger and not his comforting older brother.

Against his will, Sam was unable to prevent himself from slipping down into the first stages of unconsciousness.

 **SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

Dean silently followed Caleb down the hallways of the hospital, wobbling a little on his unsteady legs, his teeth gritted together, more than determined to succeed at his part of the plan – even if he didn't exactly _feel_ one hundred percent fit – while Caleb followed the instructions Peter Stewart had given to them, which was where his Evil Sibling was supposedly taking Dean's _brother_ , Caelan.

Dean still had a lot of reservations about trusting _anything_ that Peter Stewart told him, and the fact that they were going into this whole thing _blind_ , with nothing more to go on other than Stewart's intel, left Dean feeling more than a little worried. But at this stage, the two Hunters had little choice other than to take Peter Stewart at his word and hope like hell that he held up his end of the deal.

"I don't like this Caleb," Dean whispered, an urgent, horrible feeling twisting in his gut. His Hunter instincts were screaming at him that Peter Stewart couldn't be trusted and all he would do was lead them into another trap. But if it meant that Dean could reconnect with Caelan, then he was almost willing to go along with Peter's conniving ways … _almost_ …

"Caleb, how do we even know these instructions Peter gave you will lead us to Caelan? For all we know, he could be leading us straight into another trap."

"I know," Caleb replied too calmly for Dean's liking. "Don't worry, _I_ don't trust that guy either Dean, but if we want to get to Caelan, then we're going to have to trust him."

"Trust him?!" Dean's voice rose incredulously, a sharp look of warning from Caleb forcing Dean to lower his voice to a loud whisper once more. "I _can't trust_ that slimy bastard Caleb. After what he did to Sammy … that guy wouldn't know _honour_ if it came up and bit him on the ass!"

Caleb chuckled at Dean's comment before Dean continued his loud whispered argument while the two of them hurried along the corridors, following directions that traitorous Wannabe Hunter had given them.

"I would have more luck trusting a bloody snake right now instead of _his_ pompous ass! How do we _know_ if _anything_ he said is _true_? Caelan could be … _miles_ away from here by now!" Dean hissed in agitation.

Caleb shook his head, eyes scanning the directions before he took a sudden left. "Caelan's still here Dean," Caleb said in an eerily calm and controlled voice, stopping briefly to give the younger Hunter a reassuring, smug grin. "I've been tracking Caelan on my phone. Don't worry Winchester; I've still got a few tricks up my old Hunter's sleeve!" he winked conspiratorially before heading off once more.

A small grunt of surprise escaped Dean, slightly impressed by Caleb's foresight. At least they knew that Caelan was definitely still in the hospital.

Still … Dean couldn't help but voice more objections as he raced after Caleb. "Okay, so Caelan _is_ here … that doesn't mean that everything else Peter told us is true. He could have been only "pretending" to help us, while still following his father's orders to take us away and turn us into freakin' mindless zombies!"

Caleb let out a long weary sigh. "I don't like this anymore than you do kid. And its fine if you don't trust Peter Stewart … hell, I don't trust him either! If there was any other way, believe me, I'd take it. But right now, we don't have any other choice."

Caleb paused once more and Dean was shocked to see the worry etched within the Hunter's light brown eyes. "Peter's plan is _stupid_ and _reckless_ , but at the moment, all I am concerned about is reaching Hags before something …" Caleb took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Don't trust Peter Dean, _trust me_."

Dean's arguments halted on his tongue at Caleb's words and the sincerity he could see within the older Hunter's eyes. Dean had hunted with Caleb a few times and knew by the look in Caleb's eyes that the other Hunter had _something_ else planned … possibly a back-up plan or he knew something that no one else did. Whatever it was, Dean could find no fault in the man's persuasive words, because Dean's Hunter instincts told him that he _could_ trust Caleb completely.

"Okay," Dean conceded in a huff. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it!"

"You wouldn't be _you_ if you _did_ like it Dean!" Caleb laughed teasingly. "Don't worry Winchester … I've got your back!" he gave Dean another wink before the two Hunters continued on their way again in silence this time, Dean preoccupied with his own thoughts.

Dean and Caleb were to make their way to where the Evil Bitch Doctor was stashing Caelan, enter the room from another door with a _key_ that Peter had given them, and then the three of them were supposed to _sneak_ out of the hospital while Peter and Hank created a diversion so they could all escape undetected.

Yeah, the plan _was stupid and reckless_. They were putting all of their eggs in one basket, banking on a man who had previously wanted to _destroy_ them all with being able to follow through with his end of the deal.

All of it could come crashing down around them in a matter of seconds if Peter's Dad managed to sway him back onto his side once more; and then all of them would be quite literally … up shit's creek without a paddle!

"Damn, I hate this!" Dean muttered to himself furiously, hating that _he_ didn't have a back-up plan if this plan failed, hoping like hell that all of them could get out of this unscathed so that they could all go and rescue Sammy before the youngest Winchester was lost to them forever.

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

There was a horrible, bad feeling gnawing at the back of Sam's mind – other than slipping into the weird dream that he'd had concerning Sicko and obviously his father, Marc Ley-Lamp – that prevented him from falling into the deep unconscious state that his body urged him into.

Something … _bad_ … really bad … had happened; something that Sam had witnessed before he'd been taken from the hospital by the non-human brothers.

Wait … brothers … Dean …. Something to do with Dean … oh God!

Sam gasped, instantly thrown into alertness, eyes wide, full-blown panic threatening to overwhelm and consume him. Dean …Dean had been shot!

This … Familiar Stranger had told Sam that he would be reunited with Dean soon. But was Dean even still _alive_? Was Familiar Stranger taking Sam to see an _alive_ Dean or was he planning on _killing_ Sam so that the two brothers could meet in the afterlife?

Was this it? Was this how the Winchester siblings were going to end their story? Was Sam going to die before he had a chance to explain everything to his family; to tell them _why_ he had gone to Stanford, _why_ he hadn't contacted them in the two years since he'd been gone, to tell them he was sorry?

Sorry for causing their mother's death, sorry for attracting The Demon to their house that night and turning all of their lives upside down; sorry for being cursed, a _Demon Spawn_ , thereby causing the bad luck and unfortunate events that hung over the Winchester family like a dark cloud.

Was Sam never going to get the chance to tell his family that despite all of the hardships and horrors they had suffered and endured because of him, that he felt blessed, fortunate and _proud_ to call himself a Winchester and of belonging to their family; that he'd _never_ felt unloved or unwanted, his father and brother had _never_ looked at Sam accusingly, only with love, warmth and pride; to tell them that … despite _everything_ – the arguments, the fights, the _punishments_ , the lonely childhood – Sam _loved_ them with everything he had, everything that was in him?

Sam felt the sting of tears within his eyes at the emotional thoughts that were going through his mind. Sam quickly pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, blinking the moisture from his eyes, clamping down on his distraught feelings as the Winchester stubbornness and determination surged within him.

There was no way that this was the end. Dean _would_ be alive. Sam _would_ be reunited with him, with Caelan and hopefully his Dad too. Sam _would_ have the chance to come clean about _everything_ , explain to them that he hadn't abandoned them for a normal life; about the … _punishments_ and how he was directly responsible for Mary Winchester and Connor Hagen's deaths.

Sam _had_ to tell his family everything before … before the _punishments_ killed him or he was driven insane with guilt. Sam would explain his side of the story as much as he could. And if, after Sam had confessed his sins, his family decided that they couldn't or didn't want to have anything more to do with him because of the _curse_ he had unknowingly brought down upon his family, then as much as it would hurt … Sam would walk away from his family; his father; his surrogate brother; and even … Dean … if that's what he wanted.

Sam dug his fingernails into his upper thighs, his jaw clenching and unclenching in hurtful anguish, desperately trying to banish these morbid thoughts from his mind.

He could worry about _how_ his family would react later. For now, he needed to regather his thoughts and emotions, his main objective was to reconnect with his older brother … it didn't matter if Dean was alive or … dead, Sam _needed_ to see him, now!

 **SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW**

"I can't explain everything to you right now Cael … the drugs Daddy gave me have worn off and I'm more in control of my _own_ thoughts now … but I _have_ to see this through to the end. I have explained everything that you need to know in the letter that I placed in your hand. I hope you don't hate me too much for this Cael and I pray that you can find it in your heart to forgive me one day. But, know this … I have _never_ stopped loving you."

Elizabeth's whispered confession echoed within Caelan's mind, confused and disorientated as he heard the door shut behind him, a lock engaging before being plunged into a semi-dark room.

Caelan blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the low lighting of the room as quickly as possible, purposely pushing Elizabeth's confusing words to the back of his mind as he quickly swept his gaze across the room, scanning the area for any possible or potential threats, his heart beating harder, pumping blood through his body faster in preparation for an attack or a fight.

Caelan relaxed slightly after determining that he was alone in the room for now, Elizabeth's words coming back to haunt him as he looked down at his closed fist, feeling the weight of the paper pressed against his palm.

Every instinct Caelan had wanted to rip the letter open and read it now because as much as he tried to ignore and dismiss it as a product of his over active imagination, Lizzie's whispered confession had sounded too much like a … _goodbye_.

Caelan quickly swallowed down the lump of emotion that had formed, deliberately placing the piece of paper Elizabeth had given him into his back pocket before he squared his shoulders and marched purposely toward the door.

"Lizzie?" he called, pounding upon the door. "Lizzie, what are you doing? Why am I locked in here?"

There was nothing but silence from the side of the door.

"Lizzie … tell me what the _fuck_ is going on!" Caelan demanded, his banging getting louder now as he uselessly jiggled the door-knob in an effort to open the door. But, just as he suspected, the door was locked and it wasn't budging an inch.

Fear and panic were starting to build up within Caelan at an alarming rate. He hadn't heard from either Caleb or Dean in a long time now and he couldn't help the horrifying thoughts that something had been _done_ to his friends in his absence. He had to get to them!

"Lizzie! Open this door, damn it! Tell me what you've done to Dean and Caleb. Lizzie … _please_ …"

 **TBC**


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy. I have no knowledge or training in medical areas. I have tried to keep everything as realistic as possible, but, as medical knowledge is not my area of expertise, just beware that there may be some mistakes in the next few chapters.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Souless666** and **Kas3y** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Thanks to everyone for their patience and continued interest.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX**

Caelan wasn't ashamed to admit that he was practically _begging_ now. He needed to know if Dean and Caleb were all right. He needed to know that they were safe; that he hadn't led them all into this trap that Caelan was eighty percent positive was set up specifically for him.

Lizzie's old man, Roger Peter Stewart the third, had _never_ approved of Caelan Hagen. Not only would Caelan never be good enough for _his_ daughter – Caelan didn't have the correct pedigree associated with his name like the Stewart family did; although, technically, Caelan _was_ a second generation Hunter, which basically had earned him the title of being called an old-school Hunter … technically – but Caelan highly suspected that his old man and good old Roger Stewart had butted heads a long time ago, which had caused a lot of resentment and bitterness between the two families.

Caelan honestly didn't give a shit if Roger Peter Stewart the third, approved of him or not … he wasn't in love with Lizzie to suck up to his withered old ass or to gain his fortune! But he knew how important it was to Lizzie that the two men in her life got along. And so, Caelan had played the stupid old man's game for a while, having to prove himself repeatedly that he was worthy of Roger Stewart's only daughter's love and affection.

It soon became blindingly obvious to Caelan that no matter what he did and how much he tried to prove himself to the distinguished head of the Stewart family that he would _never_ accept Caelan of being worthy to officially date his daughter, much less ask for her hand in marriage. The old codger made it perfectly clear that Caelan could _never_ be accepted as a member of their family.

He kept trying of course, for Lizzie's sake, but she must have reached the same conclusions as Caelan because she suddenly stopped pushing Caelan to spend time with her family, the two of them more than content to enjoy their own company. Roger must have feared that he was losing his daughter because it wasn't too long after, that the old fart gave Elizabeth the ultimatum and Lizzie disappeared from both of their lives forever.

But now, with Lizzie's _goodbye confession_ ringing in his ears and the all-consuming fear that he felt for his friends' well-being and safety, it caused Caelan to become almost frantic, not being able to do a damn thing for either Lizzie, Caleb or Dean while locked within this room as he _hammered_ upon the door now.

"Lizzie!" he cried out, surprised by the amount of raw pain and anguish that he could hear in his own voice. He hardly even recognized it as his own. " _Please_ , talk to me … let me help you …"

"Cal!"

The familiar, happy exclamation tore through Caelan's shattered mind as he spun around, surprised and relieved to see Dean Winchester walking toward him.

 **CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH**

Sam turned to run his eyes up and down the Familiar Stranger both critically and appraisingly, hoping that something within this man's presence or subtle body language would give Sam a clue as to what this guy's true intentions were.

"Is there something you wish to ask me Sam Winchester?" The Familiar Stranger asked, a small smile of amusement on his lips, not in the least perturbed by Sam's intense study of him.

Sam was a little embarrassed at having been caught staring intently at the man beside him before he brushed it off, his expression settling into one of determination. "Where are you taking me?" Sam asked, dismayed by the slight crack within his voice. Sam cleared his throat and tried again. "Dean … I need you to take me to Dean, now!"

The man blinked in surprise at the amount of hostility he detected in Sam's tone, turning to give him a calculating glance before he smiled softly, gently. "You have nothing to fear Sam Winchester. Like I told you before, we are currently heading toward your brother's location now."

Yeah, but, was Dean alive or …?

Sam swallowed hard, clamping down on that thought so violently that an audible gasp escaped him that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Sam covered it up by coughing loudly, not wanting to show any sort of _weakness_ in front of the Familiar Stranger.

A puzzled frown appeared on the man's brow as he glanced at Sam curiously. "You appear to be anxious Sam Winchester. What can I do to ease your mind?"

Sam couldn't help but chuckle bitterly. "Yeah, well, with people wanting to abduct me left, right and centre today, not to mention that the last image I can recall of my brother was him lying in a pool of his own blood after being _shot_ ; I'm sure that you will understand if I'm a _tad_ paranoid at the moment. I have no idea who the hell you are. For all I know, you could be leading me to my death or you could be taking me back to … _them_."

A large lump of irrational fear got stuck in Sam's throat, causing his words to dry up suddenly.

The man's expression morphed into one of concern. "I am not going to kill you Sam Winchester," he replied in a soothing, calming voice. "Nor will I betray you by handing you over to _The Organisation_."

Sam blinked at the shadow that had fallen over the man's face, the amount of fierce anger within his tone shocking Sam out of his fear instantly, gapping at Familiar Stranger, unsure at what to do or say next.

"Forgive me," the man sighed loudly, running a hand over his face before smiling at Sam comfortingly. "I did not mean to frighten you. I know that it's hard for you to believe anything anyone says at the moment – especially someone like me, whom you didn't know very well – but I am not your enemy Sam Winchester. My only objective is to reunite you with your family. And yes," his lips quirked into a half-smile of amusement. "Your brother, Dean, is still very much alive."

Strangely, Sam was instantly by the man's words. He didn't know why, but Sam instinctively knew that this man was telling him the truth. Dean was alive. And now he was fairly confident that he wasn't being led to his death like cattle to their slaughter.

"Thank God," Sam breathed, his suspicion and doubt about Familiar Stranger vanishing at the extreme and utter relief of hearing that his big brother was alive – living, breathing, alive – and waiting for him.

It wasn't until now that Sam noticed the dull ache of a headache building up behind his eyes, making him feel slightly nauseous and dizzy. Oh shit, Sam desperately hoped that it wouldn't build into one of his rare migraines. Those things tended to stay with him for _days_ , leaving the younger Winchester feeling weak and vulnerable.

That was honestly the last thing that Sam needed right now … to be weak and vulnerable in front of a man he hardly knew at all!

 **SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW**

As soon as Caelan saw him, Dean noticed the despair and anguish disappear from Caelan's face, a brilliant smile upon his features as he immediately bridged the gap between them and engulfed Dean in a giant brotherly hug, squeezing hard as if he thought Dean was only a figment of his imagination.

"Thank God," Caelan murmured in relief, releasing Dean, his smile morphing into a giant grin. "Man, am I glad to see you! I thought for sure that you were a goner when I heard you'd been shot!" Caelan squeezed Dean's shoulder affectionately.

"Nah," Dean returned Caelan's grin, also pleased to see that Caelan appeared to be relatively unharmed, waving away Caelan's concern with an exaggerated sweep of his hand. "Sorry, but you can't get rid of me that easily dude!"

Caelan's stance immediately relaxed at Dean's teasing before he was running a critically eye over Dean, obviously searching for signs of injury or distress. It didn't take too long before Caelan's brown eyes came to rest upon Dean's abdomen, noticing the way that Dean was cradling his side protectively. "Dean, are you okay?" Caelan asked anxiously.

"Yeah Cal, of course," Dean replied, hoping to set Caelan at ease with his light hearted response. Instead, Caelan's features seemed to tighten more into worried concern and guilt.

"Lizzie … shit Dean, I'm so sorry man. I didn't know that … " Caelan swallowed hard, the amount of hurt and guilt Dean could see within Caelan's eyes caused Dean's euphoric feeling to vanish in an instant.

"You didn't know dude," Dean said softly, absolving Caelan immediately of the irrational guilt that he felt over the Evil Doctor betraying them.

Caelan shook his head angrily, not wanting to accept Dean's forgiveness so easily. "Still, I shouldn't have …" Caelan took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. "It's my fuck up bro; and I promise to find a way to fix this, okay? I just … Lizzie … she didn't … _hurt_ you, did she?"

Dean blinked at Caelan, confused by his erratic shift in conversation before he offered a reassuring smile to his obviously distraught friend. "No Caelan, that Evil Bitch of a doctor didn't hurt me. She _did_ try to knock me out for the night, but thanks to Wannabe Hunter number one … who managed to switch the vials on her … I was only knocked out for a few minutes instead of hours."

"Oh." Caelan breathed, the guilty expression leaving his expression momentarily to be replaced by confusion as he fully registered what Dean had said. "Huh? What Wannabe Hunter? You're not talking about Caleb, are you?"

Dean couldn't help but burst out laughing at Caelan's words. "Caleb is a lot of things Caelan, but a Wannabe Hunter is _not_ one of them. No, I was referring to the Evil Doc's younger sibling, Peter Stewart."

Caelan's jaw dropped open at Dean's words. " _Stewart_ helped you?" he gasped, shocked now. "But …"

"C'mon dude, I'll explain everything once we get out of here." Dean promised as he gently took Caelan's elbow and escorted him across the semi-lit room. "Let's just say that Junior Stewart wasn't very impressed with Senior Stewart over-stepping the line by "reconditioning" his own daughter to restore his good name within the Hunter's community and uphold his position within this secret organisation."

Caelan opened his mouth to bombard Dean with more questions before he closed his mouth and nodded instead. Dean was right; there would be plenty of time for explanations later. For now, the two of them needed to escape from here and reconnect with both Caleb and Sammy.

"Caleb," Caelan couldn't help but utter as Dean turned back to look at him questioningly. "Have you heard or seen from him?"

"Relax," Dean smiled. "Caleb's the one who helped to get me in here in order to get you out. Caleb's fine man, nothing to worry about. In fact, he's waiting for us just beyond this door."

"Okay," Caelan exhaled in relief before he slipped his serious "game-face" on. "Then let's get the hell out of here Dean."

Dean nodded in agreement, a smile of approval on his face when he noticed Caelan's Hunter look slide onto his features. At last, Caelan's head was finally back on mission, free from any other distraction, determined to escape this hospital and the clutches of the _organisation_.

 **DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW**

Sam lightly massaged his temple, hoping to stave off the migraine that he could feel building, concentrating instead on the sign that Sam had seen out of the corner of his eyes. The hospital where Sam had been and where Dean was currently waiting for him wasn't more than half an hour away.

Sam couldn't contain his bright, enthusiastic smile. Finally, after what felt like a life time, Sam would be returned to his older brother again; and hopefully, Sam would never see the inside of this hospital ever again, putting this whole nightmare of a day behind him and never speak of it again.

"Are you in pain Sam Winchester?"

"Huh?" Sam muttered, his thoughts returning to the present once more.

"You are rubbing your forehead," the man elaborated, gesturing toward Sam's hand which was still massaging his temple gently. "Are you in pain?"

Feeling the burn of a blush heat his checks, Sam removed his hand from his forehead, feeling self-conscious at the unconscious action he had been performing. "Ah … it's just a headache. It's nothing to worry about." Sam insisted, more concerned with reaching his brother than a stupid damn headache.

Even though a light smile remained on his face, Sam could detect the worry within his blue eyes as he reached out a hesitant hand toward Sam. "Let me," he offered gently. "I'm sure I can help you."

Instant suspicion flooded Sam, making him tense before he saw the honesty and sincerity shinning within the depths of Familiar Stranger's eyes and Sam relaxed his tense posture, shrugging indifferently.

There was no harm in it, Sam supposed. If the man thought he could help, Sam felt obligated to let him try, considering he had saved Sam from the non-human brothers, although Sam didn't have too much confidence in the man's ability to help him.

He placed two fingers in the middle of Sam's forehead. Sam had only barely registered the slight touch before the dull, throbbing ache behind his eyes disappeared.

"Wow." Sam gasped, grinning broadly. "Thanks. That feels heaps better."

The man's smile wobbled upon his lips, a more pronounced look of worry upon his brow now. "You are welcome Sam Winchester," he replied distractedly.

"Are you okay?" Sam blurted out, watching the man's blue eyes narrow, his hands gripping the steering-wheel tightly, his body tensed, looking extremely agitated. Maybe it was a side effect of taking Sam's pain away. Although, _how_ he managed to do that, Sam didn't know.

"Something's not right," he muttered, glancing over at Sam perplexed.

"Wha-what do you mean?" Sam asked, starting to become a bit disconcerted at Familiar Stranger's penetrating stare. It felt as if the guy was peering right through him, straight into his very being, into his mind, being able to see every little dirty thought or secret he'd ever had.

Sam was like a deer caught in car headlights; stunned, frozen, Familiar Stranger's gaze holding him in place, bound and secured by the sheer intensity of the man's eyes.

Familiar Stranger tilted his head to the side, confused. "You haven't had any contact with The Demon … have you Sam Winchester?"

"What demon?" Sam managed to get out of his slightly paralysed throat, his sluggish mind slowly coming back on line, realizing that he could be in a bit of trouble here if he couldn't break free from this guy's stare.

"You know which Demon I am referring to Sam Winchester," he admonished, his tone still soft, soothing and comforting, even as his eyes kept Sam pinned in place.

For the first time since Sam awoke to Familiar Stranger's presence; with the heaviness of Familiar Stranger's eyes holding him in place, Sam begun to feel the first inklings of fear. This was the first time Sam could recall the familiar ache of dread and apprehension, his instincts telling him that the guy beside him was now a valid threat.

Sam shifted uncomfortably, urging himself to look away, to break the eye contact between them. But, no matter what he did, Sam couldn't seem to pull away. "Do you mean … _The Demon_?" Sam queried, finally able to process what Familiar Stranger had asked.

"Yes Sam Winchester, _that_ Demon." He nodded in confirmation, an edge of impatience to his voice now. "Have you and The Demon … _conversed_ recently?"

"Huh? Con … no!" Sam denied vehemently, eyes snapping wide open, face flushing with indignation at the accusing tone in his voice and what he was actually asking Sam. "Why the hell would I bother talking to that son of a bitch, when I have spent my entire life hunting that bastard down in order to kill it?!"

Familiar Stranger peered deeper into Sam for a few more awkward seconds before his expression softened, his deeply paralysing gaze _shifted_ in its intensity and Sam was finally able to breathe easier, his body snapping out of its semi-trance, all of his capabilities firing on all cylinders again.

What the _hell_ was _that_?!

Sam's breaths evened out into a more regular rhythm, trying to figure out just what the hell had happened to him. Sam sneaked fugitive glances at Familiar Stranger and couldn't help but be amazed – and a bit terrified – by the seeming less ease with which he had held Sam in place with _only a look_.

He'd almost forgotten that Familiar Stranger wasn't exactly, entirely _human_. If the non-human brothers had been _scared_ of him, of incurring his wrath, then Sam could logically deduce that Familiar Stranger was no mere mortal human man. Whatever he was … Sam had just witnessed a little of the abilities he seemed to possess. And Sam wasn't ashamed to admit that he was _more_ than a tad frightened now. He had to remember _not_ to piss this guy off!

"I did not mean to alarm you Sam Winchester," Familiar Stranger spoke up softly, almost as if he could read Sam's thoughts. "But I had to be sure that The Demon was not involved in hastening your evolution."

It was on the tip of Sam's tongue to casually wave Familiar Stranger's half-assed apology away before he realized that Familiar Stranger was referring to Sam and The Demon in the present tense.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked cautiously.

Familiar Stranger's small smile was tight, strained. "I'm sorry; I don't quite know how this has happened … and I dare say that it will be painful because you have progressed much more quickly than anticipated, even though it is too early for you to have acquired access to it." He said, almost as if he was talking to himself.

"To have gained access to _what_?" Sam demanded through gritted teeth.

"Why, your abilities of course, Sam Winchester," Familiar Stranger replied, surprise and concern in his tone now. "Has your father not explained any of this to you?"

" _What_?!" Sam hissed, shocked by the man's words. "What the _hell_ are you talking about? _I_ don't have any abilities! And all my _Dad_ has said in relation to The Demon was that he's the one responsible for my mother's death." Sam fought to swallow down his rising alarm, staring at Familiar Stranger, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "How the hell do _you_ know anything about _any_ of this? You don't know _shit_ about me, or my family!"

Familiar Stranger lowered his eyes regretfully. "I apologize Sam Winchester; I assumed that your father had explained everything to you, including the abilities you will gain because of the Demon Blood …"

 _Demon Blood_?!

 **TBC**


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy. I have no knowledge or training in medical areas. I have tried to keep everything as realistic as possible, but, as medical knowledge is not my area of expertise, just beware that there may be some mistakes in the next few chapters.

Hopefully at the end of this chapter you will all understand what is going on with Sam and who Familiar Stranger is. And hopefully everything that needed to be explained is explained. Just the confrontation with senior Stewart and his henchmen to go and this story should have reached its conclusion.

If there is anything I have left out or you are still unsure about, please feel free to message me. You never know, I may have left it unintentionally unresolved for a reason (possibly a sequel).

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Cheetah Grrl** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Thanks to everyone for their patience and continued interest.

Whoops, sorry about the mix up with the last chapter, don't know what went wrong there but thanks to **Mimmi85** it's all fixed now.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN**

"It's good to see you Hags!" Caleb greeted, grin stretched wide across his face, as he enthusiastically squeezed Caelan's shoulder, his gaze travelling up and down the length of Caelan's body assessing. "And you appear to be in one piece, which is even better!" Caleb's light brown eyes sparkled in evident relief.

"Yeah, same goes for you too Hawkes," Caelan agreed, after giving his friend the same once over Caleb had given him. "Okay, so what's the plan boys?"

"Get the hell out of here and rescue Sam," Dean piped up, his eyes filled with grim determination.

"Sounds good to me," Caelan confirmed. "Let's make it happen." He offered Dean a reassuring, confident smile before turning to Caleb once more. "Lead the way Caleb. I'll stay at the rear and Dean … you just try to stay on your feet, okay buddy?"

Dean shot Caelan a scathing look. "You don't have to worry about _me_ pretty boy, you just worry about yourself!" he grumbled, even though his eyes had an edge of amusement in them. He'd missed this; the easy bantering between him and Caelan which had become almost second nature to the two friends now.

"Damn Hags, why do you always think you can boss me around? I am the oldest one here you know?"

"True. But I'm the best-looking, which means I get to be in charge." Caelan retorted teasingly.

Caleb huffed, pretending to be insulted by Caelan's words, but Caelan could see the light grin upon his friend's face. "Here, before we get going, you need to make a call Winchester," Caleb threw his phone to a startled Dean who caught the phone easily, looking at Caleb, puzzled about who exactly he needed to call.

"You need to call your _Dad_ ," Caleb elaborated, rolling his eyes at Dean. "Geez Winchester, did they hit you too hard in the head and knock a few screws loose or something?" Caleb winked at Dean, letting him know that he was only joking around with the younger Hunter and not being serious.

Dean couldn't think of a witty come back for that comment at the moment, looking at Caleb's phone in his hand, pieces falling together within his mind. " _Dad's_ your back-up plan, isn't he Caleb?"

"Okay, so maybe they didn't scramble your brains too much kid," Caleb smirked at Dean approvingly. "But _technically_ your Dad is the back-up to the back-up plan."

Dean blinked, trying to wrap his mind around that statement. "You have _another_ back-up plan?"

"Yep." Caleb smiled, looking almost smug. "The back-up plan _should_ be here in –" Caleb checked his watch. "– ten minutes, bringing the youngest Winchester with him."

Dean's eyes widened at that news. "Sammy's okay and coming here?"

"Yep." Caleb grinned at the visible relief he could see reflected with the younger Hunter's green eyes.

"Is he with another Hunter?" Dean asked, the phone forgotten now, eager to hear news of his brother and to make sure that he was in good hands. "Bobby, maybe?"

"Not exactly," Caleb hedged uncomfortably, casting a nervous glance toward Caelan. "Although I have heard that he knows his way around the hunting life-style."

Dean frowned, instantly picking up on Caelan's hesitation. He was about to ask another question, but Caelan beat him to it.

"Is it _him_?" Caelan's tone held traces of fear, awe and nervousness.

Caleb gave Caelan a quick subtle nod of confirmation.

"Son of a bitch," Caelan hissed, astounded. "I can't believe that Johnny actually called _him_ for help."

"I don't think he head much choice Caelan," Caleb shrugged unconcerned. "Regardless, we _do_ have a back-up plan if Peter and Hank fail at diverting Senior Stewart's henchmen away from us."

" _Who_?" Dean demanded, a small slither of apprehension settling within him, not comforted by his best friend's reaction to this mysterious not-Hunter who now apparently had _his_ Sammy in his possession.

Caleb smiled down at Dean, shrugging again, hoping to ease Dean's sudden uneasiness. "I haven't met the man myself," Caleb admitted, his tone light. "But I hear that he's the best at what he does and he goes by the name of Nirkish."

"That doesn't make me feel any better Caleb," Dean snapped irritably.

"It's okay Dean," Caelan laid a reassuring hand upon Dean's shoulder. "Whatever else this guy is … I _know_ that he won't hurt the squirt. For whatever reason, he seems to have a soft spot for the kid."

Dean opened his mouth to voice more objections before Caleb glanced around uneasily, while gesturing toward the phone Dean still had clutched in his hand.

"Call your Dad Dean, let him know you're all right and then we can get out of here and meet up with Sam … okay?" he smiled, trying to appease and compromise with the older Winchester sibling.

Dean still looked as if he was about to argue before he closed his mouth and nodded, agreeing to do what Caleb had suggested. The faster he made the call to his Dad and got out of here, the sooner he'd be able to see Sammy again.

 **DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW**

Sam's hands clenched into fists, glaring hard at the man beside him, a sudden wave of intense rage and denial descending upon him as he fought to control the various emotions churning within him at Familiar Stranger's statement.

Just what in the hell was this guy implying here? That his parents made a damn _deal_ with _The Demon_? That Sam had _Demon Blood_ in him? That John _knew_ about all of this and didn't tell him a damn thing about it?

Sam scoffed loudly at those notions. For what purpose would his parents make a _deal_ with _The Demon_? It wasn't as if any of them were living charmed lives and living happily ever after. Their mother had _died_. Their father had become obsessed with _killing_ the yellow-eyed bastard. Dean had become mindlessly _obedient_ to their father and the family mission. Sam had been _cursed_.

All of that misery and misfortune didn't sound like a productive Demon Deal to Sam. _No one_ had gotten any happiness out of the tragedy that had befallen the Winchester family. No one would have _wished_ this upon themselves.

It almost made Sam laugh for even considering that this was an option. Demon Deal? … Yeah, right! There was just no way _that_ would have happened. Sam instantly dismissed that ridiculous idea from his mind.

John keeping secrets from Sam wasn't a foreign concept to Sam. For as long as Sam could remember, both John _and_ Dean had tried to shield him from the truth about what their Dad did for a living and what had killed their mother, for as long as they could.

But would John keep something this _big_ from Sam?

If it was to protect him … then Sam reluctantly admitted that John _would_ keep something this big from _both_ of his boys. Dean would never have been able to keep something like this from Sam. So, John knowing about this and not saying anything … was a very real possibility.

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his rage beginning to ease to anger at that sobering thought, frustration starting to mix with his anger because … damn! He was old enough to know about this _shit_ now! How _dare_ his Dad keep something like this from him!

Sam paused, cautiously reviewing _what_ exactly his Dad had kept from him, if he did in fact know about any of this. But what exactly was _this_?

"So … let me get this straight," Sam said his words slowly, quickly regathering his scattered thoughts into a more coherent structure, working through the bits of information that he _did_ know and what he suspected. "You're saying that my _Dad_ knew about _The Demon_ and its apparent connection to me?"

Familiar Stranger nodded. "I was the one who informed him of your destiny years ago Sam Winchester."

Oh great, so now Sam had some kind of _Demonic Destiny_ to worry about now? Sam rolled his eyes sarcastically. This day just kept getting better and better …

"Okay, let me stop you right there. Firstly, _I_ don't have _any_ connection to _The Demon_ , other than the fact that my mother was killed by him in my nursery. Secondly, I don't have any _abilities_ what-so-ever; it was just a stupid _dream_ followed by a damn headache. Thirdly, and most importantly, _I do not have any Demon Blood in me_! Nor do I have any _secret Demonic Destiny_."

"I never said that your destiny was Demonic in nature Sam Winchester," Familiar Stranger interrupted Sam's tirade quietly. "I was just stating the observations that I made while healing your headache."

"What observations?"

Fantastic, now Sam was back to grinding his teeth together again so tightly that his jaw was beginning to ache.

"That your abilities appear to have been activated earlier than expected." He replied, frowning as if that answer should have been obvious to Sam.

"How?" Sam demanded tightly. "How do you _know_ that?"

"Because there was a … residue left in your mind from the time that you were connected to …" he tilted his head slightly, confused now. " … I believe you call him … Sicko?"

Sam's breath caught in his throat at the mention of that name. He had told no one about the weird dream connection that he seemed to have with Sicko, nor had he revealed what Sam secretly called the unknown man to anyone, except Dean. So, how the hell had this guy … Wait. Sicko's father had informed Sicko that he'd healed his father using his powers. Did Sam have … _powers_ … _abilities_ … just like Sicko apparently did?

Panic made Sam's heart beat faster, the strongly held denial that he had clung to, began to fall away as pieces slowly began to fit together like pieces to a puzzle.

No! He didn't _want_ to have _abilities_! He was already a _freak_ who couldn't talk about his past or upbringing, who The Demon had visited when he was just a baby. And now … what? He was supposed to have some kind of freaky _Demonic Powers_?!

Oh, _hell_ no!

 **SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW**

"Relax John," Bobby Singer said in a gruff, resigned tone, already knowing by the stiffness in the Hunter's shoulders and the tight lines of stubbornness creasing his brow that John Winchester would do anything else other than relax.

John shot a bitch face in Bobby's direction – that was so similar to his youngest son's look, that Bobby almost chuckled at the sight of it – not even bothering to answer Bobby's useless comment.

Relax?

How the hell could he relax when it had been _over_ an hour since the deadline Nirkish had _promised_ him that he would hear from either Dean or Caelan by now?

The promised phone call weighed heavily upon the Hunter's mind, and even though he and Bobby were only forty minutes away from the boys' location, every minute that passed without word from his boys increased John's worry and concern.

Nirkish should be there by now. He should have managed to get Dean, Caelan and Caleb out of the hospital by now … right?

Being tardy and waiting on people was not something John Winchester tolerated. Being a Hunter and previously a military man, John had learned the importance of being punctual; how to work within a team, your unit being an extension of your own body, trusting that every member of the unit knew their jobs and performed that function to the best of their ability (if one person failed at their job, the whole unit and mission fell apart!); and lastly, but most importantly, how crucial _communication_ was between the members of your unit or your hunting partners.

People _had_ to know what was happening or any changes that had to be made in order to complete their mission or hunt successfully.

John had taught his sons these three basic truths in order to be a successful Hunter. If everything had gone according to plan, then Dean _should_ have called John an hour ago … on the dot! So, either Caleb hadn't passed that information onto Dean or … something had gone wrong with the plan.

"Glaring at your phone like that isn't going to make it ring Johnny," Bobby remarked, chuckling dryly.

John scowled at Bobby, muttering profanities under his breath before he went back to glaring at his phone, willing it to ring, willing it to let him reconnect with his boys once more and let him know that they were at least still alive.

Almost as if the universe had sensed that John was at his limit of patience and was about to let loose the infamous John Winchester temper, his phone lit up and began ringing.

"It's Caleb," John breathed in relief before he quickly answered the phone. "You're late Caleb," John greeted, his voice clipped and impatient.

"Dad, it's me,"

John's eyes closed briefly as he offered up a silent prayer of thanks to the universe, his features softening slightly, only now realizing that he wasn't sure if he would ever hear the sound of his oldest son's voice ever again.

"Dean," John sighed, tears of gratitude within his eyes. "Son, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good Dad," Dean replied and John could detect the weariness within his boy's tone, indicating to John that Dean was far from okay, but he was still hanging in here and he was alive, damn it! That was the most important thing here, he was still alive.

"What's your status son?" John inquired briskly.

"Caleb, Caelan and I are still in enemy territory, about to proceed through the enemy ranks now and out the back door, hopefully undetected, Sir," Dean reported, all signs of previous tiredness replaced with military precision. "We will reconvene with Sam in about ten minutes; if we encounter no obstacles or interruptions."

John nodded; silently applauding his oldest son's no bull-shit and straight-to-the-point attitude. He was so damn _proud_ of the man his boy had become.

"What about you Dad? What's your location? Are you okay?"

John smiled at the worry he could hear in his oldest boy's voice. He had always been like this; more worried about everyone else than himself. "I'm good Dean." John said, not able to hide the emotions within his tightly crisp tone. "Bobby and I are about forty minutes out. How are you Dean? Any significant injuries at your end?"

"We're fine Dad,"

Good. That meant no one had any serious life threatening injuries, even though John could tell by the tone in Dean's voice that he was down-playing his own injury. John knew that despite any serious injury Dean may have suffered, he would keep trying to fight even if both of his legs had been blown off … Especially if it was to save his family.

"You keep me posted Dean; report back in fifteen minutes, okay?"

"Yes Sir." Dean acknowledged the order before ending the call.

John huffed out a sigh, relaxing slightly after hearing his son's voice and knowing that there would be an up-date soon. Hopefully by then, John would be able to _hear both_ of his sons' voices. But John knew that the tightness of apprehension wouldn't leave entirely until he could _see_ both of his sons, alive and unharmed.

Forty minutes seemed like an eternity to John right now, but he would be able to ride out this anxiously long forty minutes as long as he had regular up-dates from his boys.

 **JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW SW JW**

Did that mean that his dream was _more_ than just a _dream_ … a weird coincidence … a fluke … some kind of abnormal reaction to the drug that he'd been given or the strain of the _punishment_ session that had transpired today?

Had he really been connected to Sicko? If Sam had somehow acquired freaky _Demonic Powers_ , did that mean that Sicko had been visited in the past by The Demon as well?

"Why? Why am I connected … to _him_?" Sam barely recognized the horrified high-pitched, pleading wail his voice had become.

Familiar Stranger peered at Sam closely, hesitant and worried now. "Both of you received visits from The Demon when you were six months old. Maybe we should no longer discuss this subject as you seem to be becoming increasingly distressed …"

Fuck! Shit!

If that were true then … did that make Sicko and Sam … _Demonic Brothers_?!

Sam was gagging now, on the verge of dry-retching as that horrific thought took shape within his mind. He knew that he was probably over reacting but …

No! It couldn't be true … could it?

After _everything_ Sicko had _done_ to him … put him through … cursed at him, spat at him for being a _Demon Spawn_ , only to find out that Sicko … he _might_ be a _Demon Spawn_ to; having more in common with Sam Winchester than anyone else on the planet.

How the _fuck_ could this be _possible_?

Small, gasping whimpers reached Sam's ears, dimly aware of a sharp pain emanating from his chest, his breaths fast and shallow as he desperately tried to hold onto his sanity, his reality.

If he and Sicko really were connected … bound together by The Demon's visitation … _Demonic Brothers_ with _Demonic Powers_ fated to a _Demonic Destiny_ … then why the hell had Sicko _punished_ him for all of these years?

Why had he _broken_ Sam repeatedly over the years, _broken_ him while Dean had been forced to listen to it all … unless … Sicko didn't know that he was potentially a _Demon Spawn_ and … Oh God … Dean …

Sam grasped at his chest, horrible, wheezing, gasping sounds filling his ears, surrounding him, feeling as if he was drowning; drowning within the wave of disturbing suspicions and notions, desperately clinging to the one life-line that had _always_ been able to pull him out of his panic attacks.

"D … D … Deeee … " Sam gasped, holding onto his brother's name, urgently picturing his bad-ass older brother in his mind, knowing that if anyone could save him from this nightmare, then Dean would.

"DEAN! HEL-HELP ME!" Sam screamed with everything he had left, the panic and fear completely overwhelming and consuming him now, unaware of his surroundings, barely with it enough to realize that he was panting now, his breaths becoming more shallow, not able to get any air into his oxygen starved lungs.

Oh God … he was going to die … Dean, please, help me!

"Easy Sam Winchester, you need to calm down …"

"Get off of me!" Sam felt unfamiliar, foreign hands grabbing at him and Sam instinctively fought them as hard as he could, drawing himself into a protective ball, wanting to block out everything else around him.

The only touch he wanted to feel, voice he wanted to hear and face he wanted to see, belonged to his hero, the one who had raised him, the person who knew him better than he knew himself, Dean Winchester. Once Dean arrived, Sam would open himself back up, but until then …

"No! Get your hands off of me!" Sam screeched as he felt fingers brush against his forehead and then his mind suddenly closed off, enveloped within the nothingness of darkness.

"Sleep now Sam Winchester, your brother will be with you soon …" Sam thought he heard a voice say as it followed him briefly into the darkness and then was gone as suddenly as it had appeared.

 **TBC**


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy. I have no knowledge or training in medical areas. I have tried to keep everything as realistic as possible, but, as medical knowledge is not my area of expertise, just beware that there may be some mistakes in the next few chapters.

If there is anything I have left out or you are still unsure about, please feel free to message me. You never know, I may have left it unintentionally unresolved for a reason (possibly a sequel).

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Mimmi85, Kas3y** and **Cheetah Grrl** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Thanks to everyone for their patience and continued interest.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT**

Dean returned Caleb's phone, a sense of calmness and relief filling him after talking to his Dad. Dean had had little time to think about the condition of his father after a call had informed him of John's stab wound and car accident, but now Dean was more in control, more determined in his goal of getting out of this hospital and reconnecting with Sam now that he knew his Dad was out of the hospital and speeding his way toward them.

There was a structure to his family unit; John issued the orders, Dean followed the orders, Sammy bitched about the orders and Caelan – when he joined the Winchester family on a hunt – was a happy medium between Sam's bitchiness and Dean's blind obedience. And Dean didn't feel entirely complete and comfortable until _all_ factors of his family unit were in play.

The knowledge of his Dad returning to lead them once more, gave Dean a sense of peace and normality he hadn't felt all day. This was the way it was supposed to be and meant to be; Dad taking charge and leading the Winchester family on hunts, dividing up the various elements of a hunt between them; Sam almost always did the research, Dean and Caelan conducted interviews with possible witness' and victims and John going over every bit of information they had, double and then triple checking to make sure they hadn't missed any evidence and was one hundred percent positive of the supernatural being they were hunting.

This was Dean's _normal_. His family performing the family business of hunting things and saving people while tracking down The Demon who had murdered their mother all of those years ago and ganking is yellow-eyed ass! His family working together, goofing off, having a laugh, travelling the country in his beloved Impala, free spirits wandering, travelling, killing, saving people, alive and breathing, their family unit strengthened and unbreakable because of the profound love and loyalty that they all had for each other. This was Dean's happy place, his _normal_.

Of course, in a perfect world Dean wouldn't let Sam go on the actual hunts at all. He wished he could wrap Sam up in bubble wrap and protect him from everything out there that could potentially harm or hurt him. And, of course, Sam and his Dad wouldn't argue so much; they would grudgingly admire and respect each other.

But Dean didn't live in a perfect world. And as much as he wanted to protect his baby brother from everything, Dean knew that his brother would never _willingly_ let Dean face any danger alone. He was obstinately stubborn like that. And Dean knew that his father and brother could never stop their arguing and bickering toward each other because they were too much alike and their temperaments couldn't help but clash when they came together.

Still, Dean would take all of the imperfections that made up the mix of his family, all of the danger, blood, gore, endless hours of driving, hell … he'd even take all of the bickering and constant arguing, because at least that would mean that he family was _alive_ and together.

"Johnny okay?" Caelan asked, quietly interrupting Dean's chick-flick thoughts.

Dean offered Caelan a see-saw motion of his hand. "He tried to down-play how much his injuries were bothering him, but I could hear the subtle edge of pain in his voice."

"Like father like son, huh?" Caleb looked at Dean meaningfully before replacing his phone in the front pocket of his jeans. "You really _are_ John's son, aren't you Winchester?"

"Damn straight!" Dean grinned proudly; not bothering to answer Caleb's other remark because it would be redundant. Dean already knew that he had picked up that trait from the old man of not wanting to worry his loved ones any more than necessary. If you were able to make it your feet and _move_ , then you had nothing to worry about.

"He's about forty minutes out with Bobby, worried as hell about all of us, but he _ordered_ us to touch base with him in fifteen minutes."

Caelan smiled. "He must be all right then," Caelan let out a long, low breath of relief. "Giving orders is like breathing air to Johnny. So, if he's giving orders then we have nothing to worry about!" Caelan teased, bumping Dean's shoulder lightly.

"You're not wrong there!" Dean snorted in agreement.

"Okay troupes; let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

The three Hunters quickly, but quietly made their way down the hospital corridors, following Caleb's lead and the lay out Peter Stewart had given him of the hospital, ducking out of sight whenever they heard footsteps coming their way. It didn't matter if the footsteps belonged to a doctor, nurse, orderly, patient or visitor; the three Hunters weren't taking _any_ chances. Besides, without really knowing who exactly this organisation consisted of, they had no choice but to suspect _everyone_ might be a potential enemy.

They were making good time, Caleb gesturing to them that they had five more turns and two flights of stairs to go down before they made it to the main doors and would be out the front door, their freedom guaranteed. The only problem was, the last stretch of their journey was wide out in the open, which meant they could be spotted at any time.

Still, they were professional Hunters, and as such, they took things one step at a time, instantly adapting to any deviations that had to be made of their escape route due to extreme foot traffic.

Dean's left arm clutched at his mid-section, trying to keep the pain that he could feel at the stitches pulling to a tolerable level, his posture leaning heavily to his left side, sweat beginning to glisten upon his off-white complexion, knowing that if he stopped to think about it he would be barfing up in the corner, hunched over in misery and pain.

Even though Dean was feeling considerably worse as one minute rolled into the next, he never faltered or slowed the other two Hunters down. He gritted his teeth together and persevered through the pain and discomfort, knowing that the end result of this would be seeing his younger brother once more.

"Dean, how are you holding up man?" Caelan asked in a hushed tone, concern evident in his voice when the three men had stopped for a quick breather, Caleb having to regain his direction when they were pushed further back because of the foot traffic.

"I'm … okay …" Dean replied with a grimace. "Will be … even better … when I can have a cold … beer." He grinned weakly at Caelan.

Caelan appreciated Dean's attempt at trying to lighten the mood and chuckled dryly. "Yeah, I'm hearing you brother, can't wait to have a cold one myself."

"Ten more minutes Dean," Caleb turned to give the younger man a calculating look, not liking the pallor of his skin or his almost protective hunched posture.

"Dad … won't like that," Dean said, his face contorting with pain. "Will be past the dead-line …"

"We'll worry about John's infamous temper late," Caleb shrugged unconcerned. "Once we've escaped from enemy territory." Caleb paused, rising his eyebrows at Dean questioningly, a challenging gleam within his eyes. "Think you can stay on your feet for ten more minutes, Winchester?"

Dean glared daggers at Caleb, accepting his challenge. "Watch me," he growled.

"Good." Caleb smirked, pleased with the younger man's fighting attitude, eyes flicking back toward the map once more to make sure that they were headed in the right direction. "Okay then, let's get going."

Dean's expression hardened in determination, falling in between the two Hunters when the three of them continued to move through the maze of corridors of this mammoth hospital.

Caelan kept his eyes trained both on Dean and their backs, becoming more worried about Dean the longer their mission continued. The young man was dead on his feet, needing to rest and have some good pain meds in order to recover from the gunshot wound that he had received only hours ago.

Caelan would honestly be surprised if Dean hadn't at least pulled a stitch or two out from this arduous journey through the hospital. This was taking far longer than he expected it to. But if it came down to it, Caelan would _carry_ Dean out of here if he had to. There was no way that Caelan would ever leave Dean behind.

Dean concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, blinking the blurriness from his vision, knowing that he was on his last reserves of strength, when his big brother senses started wailing at him, screaming that something was wrong … something had happened to Sam!

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, heart pounding in fear, looking around as if he could spot his kid brother and determine what kind of danger he was in. But, of course, all Dean could see was empty rows of corridors, no sign of his brother anywhere.

"Dean … are you okay man?" Caelan's worried voice sounded muffled in his ears as Dean felt an intense wave of panic and fear descend upon him. He instinctively knew that these feelings weren't his own; they belonged to his baby brother.

"Sammy," Dean murmured, fear twisting in his stomach, frustrated because he should be with Sam, damn it! His job was to protect and look out for his younger brother … and where was he? Stuck in this damn hospital without any clue of where the hell Sam was!

"Dean!" Caelan hissed, shaking Dean's shoulders to get his attention, surprised at the amount of tension he could feel in his friend's body. If Caelan didn't know any better, he'd say that Dean was gearing up for a fight of some kind. "What the hell is wrong with you man? We've got to keep moving!"

"Sammy," Dean repeated, eyes widening, a startled gasp escaping him as he turned to look back at Caelan in shock. "Cal … did you _hear_ that?"

"Hear what?" Caelan looked around, not spotting any danger nearby; having no clue what had spooked his normally level-headed friend. "Dean, there's no one here."

"I could have sworn …" Dean swallowed hard, his complexion losing all colour as he "heard" his frantic sibling screaming his name, screaming for help.

Oh God, Sammy!

He had to get to Sam, now!

But … Dean had no idea of where to go what to do, other than the fact that he needed to get to Sam … immediately!

Dean's emotions were on high alert, all of his senses were over-loading, bombarding him with useless information, everything in him tuned into one person; Sammy. Somehow, Dean sensed that his brother was in trouble and his every instinct was urging him to get to his brother as quickly as he could, no-matter-what.

Dean stood there, indecisive for several long seconds and then, just like that, his big brother radar went off-line. It was as if someone had taken a giant switch and turned it to the off position.

Dean blinked, an empty, hollow feeling of dread inside of him at the loss of the connection that he'd had with his brother. Oh shit, did this mean that Sam was … out of commission?

Dean swallowed down his overwhelming panic, determined to remain calm and in control. His little brother needed him to remain strong; in control; indestructible. He wouldn't be doing anyone any favours if he fell to pieces now.

"Hey guys …" Caleb's footsteps returned back to Dean and Caelan, phone held in his hand, looking slightly less stressed than before. "I've just received word from Nirkish. He and Sam are outside in the parking lot. He can be in our position in five minutes. So, I suggest that we hang back here and wait for Nirkish to find us."

Dean's head snapped up at Caleb's words, his heart beating faster in hope now instead of dread. Did Caleb just say that Sam was out in the _parking lot_?

An extra reserve of strength Dean didn't know he had, pumped through his exhausted, tired and aching system as he darted past Caleb and ran down the flight of stairs as fast as he could, completely ignoring the cries of both Caleb and Caelan for him to come back.

He didn't care if he was risking the mission, of being caught out in the open. All he cared about right now was getting to his brother and making sure that Sam was okay, because his big brother instincts were _never_ wrong. And they had sounded the biggest alarm within Dean, urging Dean to get to his brother now and to help him before it was too late.

 **DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW**

"Dean! Where the hell are you going?" Caleb demanded in a loud whisper as Dean side-stepped past the older Hunter and made it to the stairs before Caleb had time to react.

"Dean! Damn it! Get back here!" Caelan ordered, automatically stepping past Caleb in order to follow the younger Hunter.

"Wait!" Caleb managed to grab Caelan's arm before the man slipped past him, bringing Caelan to an abrupt halt. "What the hell is going on? Where is Winchester going? Damn it, the kid is going to blow _everything_ if he's spotted!"

"Cut him some slack Hawkes. He's been worried sick about his brother all day. And then you come along and tell him that his brother is just outside in the parking lot waiting for him. _Of course_ nothing's going to stand in his way. Plan or no plan, when Sam's in danger or threatened, Dean forgets everything else but his younger brother's safety and well-being." Caelan shot back, defending Dean's reckless actions as strongly as a mama bear would protect and defend her young.

Caleb sighed, exasperated. "Yeah, I get that Hags," he blew out a frustrated breath. "But we _need_ to get him back here and calmed down before someone spots his ass and reports in to Senior Stewart. I don't want John's wrath to be on _my_ head when we fail to bring out his first-born son in one piece. Thanks, but no thanks. I love my life too much to die today!"

Caelan pulled himself loose from Caleb's hold. "You weren't there when we found Sammy today Caleb. You don't _know_ what Dean's been through or been put through because some crazy _Hunters_ from a _secret organisation_ want to _punish_ and _torment_ his kid brother for reasons unknown!" Caelan couldn't help but snap back at Caleb, knowing how _stupid_ Dean was being at the moment, but if Caleb hadn't stopped him, Caelan would be following Dean right now.

And if it happened that they were caught in a trap because of it, then so be it. Because Caelan could understand Dean's anxiousness in getting to the youngest Winchester ASAP because it was the exact some instinct that was crawling within Caelan right now as well.

There wasn't _anything_ he wouldn't do for the Winchesters … and that included Sam as well!

Caelan let out a long, pent up sigh at his friend's frustrated and confused expression. "Look, Dean's got some kind of sixth-sense-radar when it comes to the kid. All I know is, Dean uttered Sam's name a couple of times before he went as white as a sheet and then took off. He _thinks_ Sam's in danger and I'm sorry Caleb, but nothing on earth is going to stop Dean now until he gets to his brother's side.

Now, I don't know about you, but I'm going to follow Dean so that his impulsiveness doesn't get him caught and his impatience doesn't get him killed. Follow me or not Caleb … the decision is yours man." Caelan held his friend's gaze for several long seconds, letting Caleb see that Caelan wasn't backing down on this one, before he proceeded down the stairs Dean had shot down just minutes ago.

Caelan could hear Caleb's muttered oaths behind him and smiled knowingly, not surprised when a few seconds later he heard Caleb's hurried footsteps behind him. Caelan glanced at Caleb, his eyebrows raised questioningly.

Caleb shrugged. "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em." He answered in reply to Caelan's unspoken questions. "Besides, the Winchesters are _my_ friends too. If Dean's decided to go postal and descend into this recklessly, self-destructive act that is basically going to get him caught or worse … he won't be doing it alone." Caleb declared, his expression set in stubborn determination.

Caelan nodded in gratitude. "Thanks Hawkes, I appreciate it man," he grinned to take the awkwardness out of the situation; both Hunters uncomfortable with showing any real emotion which might make them look weak.

Caleb returned Caelan's grin. "You would totally crash and burn without me Hags!" Caleb teased. "But before we take off recklessly into enemy ranks … I'll just send John a quick text message, to report in."

Caelan nodded almost distractedly as he spotted Dean running – well, shuffling as fast as his injuries and exhausted body would allow – around the corner. "Yeah, you text Johnny Caleb, I'll catch up to Dean and then you can meet us, okay?"

Without bothering to wait for a reply from his friend, Caelan put on an extra burst of speed in order to catch up to Dean before he fell flat on his face or did something stupid to get himself caught or killed.

 **CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH**

Through the nothingness of the darkness, Sam began to see shapes, colours and noises that didn't fit where he belonged. The now familiar, non-feelings that he experienced, that he _knew_ didn't belong to him, smothered him like tendrils through his mind, and Sam knew, before he became enveloped completely, that he was once again _connecting_ with Sicko's mind.

Now that he knew what was happening, Sam wasn't as freaked out as before, but it still unnerved him the way that he seemed to be taken completely over by Sicko's thoughts and emotions as if they were truly his own. And the odd sensation of himself being taken over by another made Sam feel disorientated, still considering himself as being a part of Sicko – becoming more difficult to differentiate between the two individual personalities, as Sicko's thoughts, memories and feelings merged into his own.

No!

Sam didn't want to see any more of this! He didn't want to _be_ inside of Sicko's mind, experiencing his sick, dark and twisted thoughts.

Sam fought it; fought to escape, desperate not to fall back into this father and son's demented views and opinions, but there was nothing Sam could do as he felt himself slipping and merging into the aggressive, sadistic mind of his tormentor and torturer …

Sam was excited … maybe a little apprehensive, but more excited as he considered the possibility of what he could achieve if he really _did_ have a power like his father claimed he did.

The two of them had decided to stop for the rest of the day and start fresh again in the morning. It seemed that being resurrected had taken its toll on his father and Sam wasn't feeling all the best either. He had a headache that felt as if it wanted to split his head in two, exhaustion filling every corner of Sam's body, making Sam consider the option of falling asleep for the next week or more so he could recharge his batteries.

Bringing his Dad back to life had some serious side-effects upon Sam's physical state; experiencing a bone weary tiredness he had never experienced before … drained is the best way to describe it; apathy, depression weighing heavily upon his soul.

Now that Sam had been in the shower for a good half an hour, his depressive weariness was being replaced by excited optimism.

It was obvious to Sam that his Dad had been _dead_ , he had seen the vacant, life-less stare of his father's eyes and _knew_ that his Dad was gone. And yet, somehow, here he was … _alive_.

If Sam had a power like his Dad said … then could he bring other things … people back to life just by willing it? Did that mean that both he and his father got to live forever because of Sam's abilities? Could Sam _heal_ himself?

The possibilities of what he could do were mind-blowing and once Sam wrapped his mind around the fact that he had a supernatural ability … He couldn't help the wonderfully wicked thoughts that entered his mind.

He could have _so_ much fun with this power; playing and torturing his victims to the point of death, only to bring them back to life and start the game all over again.

Sam could picture them; bloodied, bruised, _marked_ , lifeless … _His Demon Spawn_ having no choice but to relive Sam's cruel, torturous ways only to be brought back to life and repeating the cycle all over again.

Sam could feel himself getting hard at that thought, a low moan of pleasure escaping him at all of the _things_ he could do to his _marked_ little Sammy Winchester.

 **TBC**


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes. I apologize for the sexual content in the beginning of this chapter, which might not be to everyone's liking. Nothing too graphic, more implied.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy. I have no knowledge or training in medical areas. I have tried to keep everything as realistic as possible, but, as medical knowledge is not my area of expertise, just beware that there may be some mistakes in the next few chapters.

If there is anything I have left out or you are still unsure about, please feel free to message me. You never know, I may have left it unintentionally unresolved for a reason (possibly a sequel).

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Kas3y** and **Cheetah Grrl** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Thanks to everyone for their patience and continued interest.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE**

Oh yeah … he was definitely _keen_ to try this power out on little Sammy.

Sam moaned in desire as he instinctively began jerking off to images of Sam Winchester's body bloodied and mutilated, only to be brought back again with no injuries and to repeat the procedure all over again.

Sam gasped, his sexual desire removing the last effects of fatigue from his body. Oh God, he just wanted to try it now … he wanted _his Demon Spawn_ so badly that –

"Son, are you all right in here? Thought I'd better check on you since you've been in the shower for almost an hour." Marc pulled back the shower curtain, his eyes growing wide at the sight of his son pleasuring himself, head thrown back in a passionate cry, his hand sliding up and down his fully erect penis.

"Ah." Marc gulped, taking in his son's erotic pose and without another thought or any hesitation, he climbed into the shower behind his son.

No!

Ugh … God, no! Sam didn't want to see this! Nope! No way! No way in _hell_ was Sam going to see, _feel_ and _want_ – because of Sicko's _needs_ – his father's hands all over his body, rubbing himself against Sam's ass, Sam feeling the bulge in his father's pants, hearing his father's breathless pants behind him as he quickly pulled down his zipper, Sam feeling his father's naked penis against him ... Oh God, yes, Sam wanted his father to fuck him; wanted him to shove his dick up his ass and fuck him so hard that he couldn't walk for a week!

"Oh, Dad, yes … fuck me!" Sam moaned, his father's penis searching for his hole as Marc bent Sam over, spreading his legs before Sam felt excruciating pain as his father ripped into him and began to pound in and out of him ruthlessly. But Sam didn't care. Instead the pain only intensified Sam's sexual pleasure causing his own erection to throb now as …

Ugh! God, no, get me out of here!

With a will power Sam didn't know he possessed, he wrenched his mind away from Sicko's, willing himself to his own body … hell, he'd even will himself to be next to a raging vampire! Anything … _anywhere_ … other than in Sicko's mind while father and son _fucked_ each other!

Sam focused on Dean's face, desperately willing himself _there_ and not _here_ … willing himself out of Sicko's twisted sexual fantasy. He could do it. He couldn't stay here and experience this incestuous relationship any longer. He couldn't –

"Sam Winchester, we have arrived."

Sam shot up into a sitting position, gasping for breath, managing to hold back the bile that threatened to rise as he looked about in panic and confusion before his eyes came to rest upon Familiar Stranger's features.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief, never being so glad to see anyone as he was at seeing this strange non-man sitting beside him. Thank God he was out. Out of Sicko's mind and back within his own body.

"Are you okay Sam Winchester?" The man asked in concern.

"I am now." Sam nodded, taking a few more seconds to get his bearings before turning to face Familiar Stranger, his expression set in determination. "I want you to take me to Dean now." He insisted, holding Familiar Stranger's gaze, stubbornly refusing to back down or look away. He didn't care _what_ it took, but he needed to see Dean now!

Familiar Stranger was the first to break eye contact, a small smile upon his lips, bowing his head slightly, acknowledging Sam's demand. "As you wish Sam Winchester," he conceded in a low monotone voice. "Follow me and I will take you to your brother."

 **SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW**

Dean staggered down the corridor, taking a quick left, noticing the main lobby and exit doors just ahead of him. Finally, the end was in sight. Now to quickly dash through the lobby, out the doors and then he would be free to search for his brother and see what kind of trouble that kid had gotten himself into this time.

Dean paused, hidden, out of sight, while he did a quick survey of the area, instinctively reaching a hand behind him to pull out his gun and … stiffened as he suddenly realised that he didn't have his gun on him. In fact, Dean realised with a sinking heart as he did a quick pat down of his body, he had _no_ weapons on him at all.

Sonuvabitch!

Now what was he supposed to do? Walk through the lobby and into the lion's den unarmed … _naked_?

Not once did Dean think to abandon this recklessly stupid plan and return to Caleb and Caelan, because Dean could recall with pristine clarity the fear and pain that he had felt from his baby brother. Sammy was in trouble. And no matter what, Dean _would_ get to his brother's side no matter how many of these assholes he had to get through in order to achieve that goal.

Steeling himself, calming himself as much as possible, the objective clear within his mind, Dean took a step out into the open, when he was suddenly yanked back by the collar of his shirt.

Dean whirled around, automatically throwing a punch at his would-be attacker before he saw that it was Caelan who had pulled him back, a disappointed, angry look upon his face as he easily dodged Dean's wild punch, staring down at Dean accusingly.

" _What the fuck_?!" Caelan hissed, holding onto the back of Dean's collar in case the oldest Winchester sibling decided to make a run for it. "Are you _trying_ to get yourself _killed_?"

"No!" Dean retorted hotly, trying to pull himself out of Caelan's grip but having no luck; his strength nowhere near at maximum power right now. Even though his body felt weak and betrayed him by not displaying the strength that Dean needed right now, he still had full use of his deadly glare, which he used to full capability as he angrily stared Caelan down. "I am _trying_ to get to Sammy."

"Yeah, that was our plan to begin with before you decided to sabotage it and take off by yourself without any weapons or back-up!" Caelan reprimanded, his own anger flaring to life at Dean's suicidal, lone-wolf mission. "Jesus Dean, what the hell were you thinking man? It's like you've got a fucking death wish or something!"

Dean shook his head, stubbornly defiant, his gaze never leaving Caelan's for a moment. "I _need_ to get to Sammy." He insisted urgently. "He's in trouble and I need to get to him. Now, you can either let me pass without a fuss or … I will have to put you down and go _through_ you. Either way, I _am_ going to Sam." Dean growled in his low, threatening voice.

Caelan stared at Dean, noticing the determined, stubborn glint in his green eyes and Caelan knew that Dean wasn't backing down. Nothing would make Dean back down or see reason when Sam was in trouble or hurt.

Caelan ran assessing eyes up and down Dean's body and couldn't help but smirk at the way Dean was hunched over, protecting his body, his complexion white, small tremors of pain radiating throughout Dean's body as his eyes narrowed, sharp with his determined resolve.

"C'mon Dean, you're not going _anywhere_ in the condition that you're in at the moment!" Caelan snorted. "You'll keel over and go flat on your face the instant you stop hugging and leaning against this wall for support!

"Watch me," Dean replied lowly.

Caelan eyed Dean for several long seconds before he let out an irritated sigh, his expression softening slightly, shrugging his shoulders in surrender. "Okay Dean, you win. But I'm not letting you do this alone, so you better tell me what the plan is and let's get our asses moving, okay?"

Dean's tense posture relaxed into a relieved grin. He really hadn't been looking forward to having to go _through_ Caelan, but he would have if Caelan had gotten in his way. "Run like hell and hope we make it while you cover me?" Dean smirked his cocky grin when Caelan just stared at him in disbelief. "Come on Cal, where's your adventurous spirit? This will be fun!"

"Yeah … fun," Caelan replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes at Dean's outlandish plan. "How ab out I give you your gun and we _both_ cover each other while we run like hell and hope we make it?" Caelan countered.

Dean's grin widened. "Deal." He agreed, taking his gun from Caelan, liking the way it fit comfortably within his hand, like an extension of his own arm. "Okay, let's … where's Caleb?"

"Here," Caleb announced, running around the corner to stand beside the two Hunters. "Okay guys, what's the plan?"

Dean and Caelan shared an amused glance with each other. "Run like hell and hope we make it." Both of them said at the same time."

"Holy crap, we're all gonna die!" Caleb groaned loudly, slapping his hand against his forehead.

"Not today," Dean announced confidently, about to lead the charge across the lobby when beyond the doors, he spotted someone he would recognize anywhere. "Sammy," he breathed.

 **DW CH JW DW CH JW DW CH JW DW CH JW DW**

The elated high John had experienced while talking to Dean and knowing that at least one of his sons was safe for the time being, began to dissipate not long after he had ended the call with Dean.

Although he was extremely relieved to know that Dean – as well as Caelan and Caleb – all seemed to be in relatively good health, he couldn't help but begin to wonder and worry about the whereabouts of his youngest son.

Learning what he had today from ex-Hunter, dead-as-a-door-nail, Marc Ley-Lamp about how Marc had betrayed John's trust by taking his youngest boy, subjecting him to torture and _brainwashing_ techniques in order for Sammy to be complaint to Marc and his … organisation's cause, made John feel both sick to his stomach with guilt and dread as well as furiously livid at the abuse that asshole had inflicted upon his boy!

John couldn't believe how gullible and _blind_ he had been to have not seen what Marc had been doing to Sammy. The signs of his son's obvious distress had been there all along, and it wasn't until now, because of Marc's revelations that John finally understood a little of his son's seemingly out of control and irrational anger that Sammy had directed toward John on an almost daily basis.

John had assumed that Sammy was just going through the normal teenage rebellion stage; arguing every point that John said, questioning every move that he made, every decision, becoming extremely difficult with John to the point where John's own volatile temper would flare into action and he couldn't help but strike back at his boy with harsh, hurtful words.

But now John understood that Sam's moody, abrasive anger had been a disguise, a cover for what his boy was already going through and had endured ever since he had been a little boy.

Knowing that John had little time and patience for _feelings_ and serious emotional debates, Sammy had tried to let John know in his own way that something was wrong with his boy. All John had to do was to take the time out and examine it for what it was and he would have seen the hurt, confusion and pain behind his youngest extreme argumentative behaviour.

But, of course, John had little time to worry about his boys _emotional_ problems. They needed to obey his every command without question, be a good solider in their mission of tracking down The Demon and eradicating its miserable existence.

He didn't feel the need to delve deep into Sam's constant confrontational that Sam only displayed with John, because that was Dean's job. John taught them how to survive, how to hunt, how to track, how not to die … everything else; their feelings, their everyday problems, their schooling, their health and well-being … that was something that John entrusted Dean to take care of.

A surge of anger momentarily filled John at Dean's _failure_ to recognize that _his brother_ had been screaming for help; had been beaten, tortured and brainwashed for _years_.

Why the hell hadn't Dean seen beyond Sammy's anger to the hurt and pain that he was obviously in? Why hadn't Dean gotten through Sammy's defensive barrier to the real issue that lay beneath? Dean _should_ have been able to somehow _see_ why Sammy was acting out and becoming defiant to John's every little word. But Dean had been just as oblivious and blind as John had; wanting to be the perfect son, the perfect solider, following John's _every_ order, no matter how ludicrous that order might be.

And just like that, John's anger toward his oldest son disappeared. He couldn't put all of this upon Dean's shoulders. Dean was only a brother. John was the father. He should have known … should have seen …

But every year, like clock-work, John would drop Sammy off with Marc Ley-Lamp a couple of days before Mary's death anniversary; and then he would take Dean with him on a hunt or to do more research on The Demon who had destroyed his family for _two weeks_ , while Marc was _beating_ his son, filling his head with God only know _what_ lies and John … John had left Sammy alone, defenceless, without either him or Dean's protection, entrusting Sammy's life and well-being within the hands of a _Hunter_ who had managed to quite efficiently pull the wool over his eyes.

Guilt now flooded John, because he was a man who _didn't_ trust easily. He was suspicious of damn near _everybody_ – especially when it came to the safety and protection of his boys – and the small circle of people he did trust were few and far between. Yet, somehow Marc had slipped under John's compulsive, suspicious radar and had earned John's trust and respect, even as _he_ was the one who was hurting his boy and who had _killed_ John's best friend in order to keep his dark, twisted little secret …

John wished he could bring that asshole back to life and kill him the way he'd wanted to the first time around … nice and slow and bloody, just like he deserved after all of the torment he had put his baby boy through. But John couldn't bring him back to life and he had no one to vent his frustration and rage upon now except this mysterious organisation that Marc had been employed with.

No matter what it took, John vowed to bring that organisation down to its knees for condoning such atrocious acts, of the obviously mad man, allowing him to torture and brainwash a _Hunter's_ child; _his Sammy_.

John had two life missions now; to kill The Demon and to destroy The Organisation. Both missions involved his youngest boy and John knew that it could be so _easy_ to blame Sammy for his mother's death, for attracting dangerous people to the already dangerous life-style that they led by being Hunters.

But no matter how hard he tried – which wasn't very hard at all – John couldn't blame or hate his boy for either of those horrendous acts that had been committed by supernatural beings and evil humans to his baby boy; to his _family_.

Even though John didn't say it or express it very often, he loved his boys with everything he had in him. _They_ were the reason _why_ John continued to get up every day and live the life that he did. They were the reason why he didn't give up hope of ever finding and exacting vengeance upon The Demon that had callously taken their mother away from them.

And just like with everything else that had tried to screw with his boys, this … _organisation_ would feel the wrath of John's fury and they would _learn_ to never, ever fuck with his son ever again!

 **JW DW CH JW DW CH JW DW CH JW DW CH JW**

Dean ran a critical eye up and down Sam's body, relieved to notice that his brother looked no worse than he did before he had been kidnapped from the hospital – a little bit paler and his brow was creased with wrinkles of pain, making his eyes squint, supporting his left arm with his right arm – but otherwise, he appeared unharmed.

Letting out a breath Dean didn't even know he'd been holding, Dean's tense body relaxed at the sight of his brother. He was alive. Thank God, he was _alive_. Whatever had set off Dean's inner brotherly alarm, appeared to be over now and Dean was more anxious to get to his brother's side than he was before.

Sam listed dangerously to one side, on the brink of falling and Dean's body automatically prepared to rush over to Sam, to keep his baby brother from falling. But before he could move, the person next to Sam shot out a hand and kept Sam steady until the young man regained his footing once more.

Dean's eyes shot over to the stranger beside Sam, running a calculating eye over him, his eyes narrowed as he took in this mysterious man's posture and demeanour, trying to determine if he was a threat to his kid brother or not.

After how Caelan had reacted about this guy, Dean was expecting … well, he wasn't quite sure _what_ he was expecting – a sinister gleam in his eyes, an expression of malice and evil intent, built like a pit-bull, exuding aggression – but all Dean saw was a relative look of _normal_ , boring even.

He was taller than Sam by a couple of inches, his body toned, short dark hair with piercing, sharp blue eyes, his expression one of concern but wary alertness. Although nothing in this man's demeanour screamed dangerous to Dean, Dean could tell that this guy was used to fighting battles as his eyes carefully scanned the surrounding area, while maintaining a stoic, unreadable, steely gaze. This guy might not be a Hunter, but his controlled, tense posture indicated that he could be.

Dean made a mental note to be extremely cautious with this one; not to give away too much of his own abilities or knowledge because this guy appeared to be conniving enough to use it to his advantage.

Dean's eyes gave one final sweep of this mysterious guy before he turned eyes back upon his brother, instantly becoming anxious at his brother's alarmed, frantic features before Sam _ripped_ his arm from the guy's grip, angrily gesturing toward the hospital's waiting area, obviously impatient to get in here.

Dean relaxed at the stern, reproachful look this – Nirkish, that's what Caleb had called him, Dean suddenly recalled – an affectionate smile gracing his lips at his younger brother's slightly irritated look; because that was typical of Sammy – especially when Dean or their Dad were in trouble or needed help – Sam would forget _everything_ that Dean and Dad had taught him in his impatient need to get to his fallen brother or father immediately, consequences be damned! He was too damn reckless for his own good sometimes!

Dean felt a blush heat his checks in recognition that _he_ also acted impulsively sometimes – but more so if Sammy was involved – just as he was doing right now; risking everything just so he could get to his brother.

Dean nudged Caelan with his elbow to get his attention and jerked his head slightly in Sam's direction. Dean knew the exact moment Caelan spotted Sam because he saw the tension leave his friend's stiffened shoulders, a low sigh of relief escaping him.

Dean and Caelan's eyes met briefly, both of them pleased to see that the youngest Winchester appeared to be unharmed and in no danger from this Nirkish guy. Caelan raised an eyebrow inquiringly, tilting his head to the side, urging Dean to tell him what their next move was now that Sam was just beyond the exit doors.

Dean's brows drew together, considering Caelan's request before he offered the Hunter a shrug, not having an alternate plan; the previous plan, as foolish as it was, still remained the best option for them to get to Sam; run like hell and hope they make it.

Dean smirked at Caelan, miming a running action, his mouth opened wide in a scream of mock-terror.

Caelan shook his head fondly at his friend's antics, but nodded in approval to Dean's outrageously ridiculous plan. He was in. No matter how crazy it was, he wouldn't let Dean do this alone!

Dean turned his eyes toward Sam again, noticing his brother becoming more agitated by the minute. Dean knew he had to make his move soon before Sam decided to bust down the doors, alerting organisation members everywhere of his arrival, becoming ensnared within their grasp once again.

Dean couldn't allow his brother to become the target for their cruel, vindictive, sadistic ways any longer. Dean was going to do his damn job and protect his baby brother from _all_ threats … no matter who the hell they were!

Dean took a deep, steadying breath, his body tensing in preparation for his mad dash across the foyer, but before he took that first running step, movement from the corner of Dean's eye had him snapping his head toward that direction.

With dawning horror, Dean realised that two goons in suits were heading toward Sam, their expressions grim, set in determination and Dean could only assume that these two were part of this secret organisation.

No! They couldn't get their hands on Sam again! Dean _refused_ to let Sam be taken from under his nose again!

Only two goons … Dean knew he could take them and dispose of them before they had time to blink. But then, off the other side, three more goons appeared, the two sets of teams making an organized attack upon his unsuspecting brother.

Dean's breath caught in his throat at the sight of these teams moving toward Sam with military precision and before he became aware of his actions, Dean stumbled into the lobby, wanting … _needing_ to warn his brother of the danger before it was too late.

"Sammy!" he cried out as all eyes turned toward him.

Dean and Sam's eyes met and locked onto each other, a multitude of emotions flashing within their eyes before Dean offered his little brother a small, confident smile. 'Run!' he mouthed the word urgently, knowing that his brother understood what Dean meant as both sets of goons started swarming toward him.

Dean didn't care if he was caught, captured, as long as it gave his little brother enough of a distraction to escape, that's all Dean was concerned about.

 **TBC**


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes. I apologize for the sexual content in the beginning of this chapter, which might not be to everyone's liking. Nothing too graphic, more implied.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy. I have no knowledge or training in medical areas. I have tried to keep everything as realistic as possible, but, as medical knowledge is not my area of expertise, just beware that there may be some mistakes in the next few chapters.

If there is anything I have left out or you are still unsure about, please feel free to message me. You never know, I may have left it unintentionally unresolved for a reason (possibly a sequel).

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Kas3y** and **kandilyn** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Thanks to everyone for their patience and continued interest.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER FORTY**

Sam was standing outside the hospital doors, his headache raging behind his eyes, threatening to rip his skull in two, angrily debating with Familiar Stranger, determined, despite his aches and pains to get in there to see his brother.

"I don't care if it's a _trap_!" Sam growled. "You promised to take me to my brother … so, take me to him, now!" Sam ordered, through with playing these stupid _mind_ games with these people. "Or, are _you_ saying that you _lied_ to me?" Sam's eyes narrowed, his voice filled with accusations and distrust now.

"No, of course not Sam Winchester," Familiar Stranger said, shocked and bewildered by Sam's hostile tone.

"Good. Then you will let me go into that hospital and see my brother right now … right?"

The man paused before he reluctantly shook his head. "I do not think that is a good idea Sam Winchester. I can retrieve your friends and brother more quickly and easily if you would remain outside and wait for me."

Sam scoffed loudly, beyond frustrated now. "That is not happening." He warned. "I am _not_ waiting out here while you go and get my brother. I am coming with you."

Sam noticed Familiar Stranger giving him a dubious look as he took in Sam's injuries. "What? You think just cause my shoulder _might_ be dislocated again that I can't help you? You think I'll slow you down, don't you?"

"That's not what I was going to say," the man mumbled, not able to meet Sam's forthright gaze, looking extremely guilt-ridden and embarrassed now.

Sam instantly felt bad for making his saviour feel uncomfortable around him. The last thing he wanted to do was to insult the guy who had rescued him from the non-humans. But, couldn't he _see_ that Sam _couldn't_ be left out here, left behind because he'd be some kind of liability, like he was some damsel in distress that needed saving? Sam was a Winchester. And Winchesters sucked it up until the hunt was completed … no matter how badly you were injured.

Sam hadn't been able to make a lot of decisions for himself today and he _knew_ that his various injuries could hamper him and compromise the rescue mission, getting one or all of them hurt, captured or … killed, but Sam couldn't just sit this one out. He wouldn't sit this one out, not when people who had come to his aid earlier and helped him, could be the ones in danger now; not when _both_ of his brothers could be in trouble right now because of him, because _he_ had been the one to call Caelan and ask for help, he was the one who had brought this down on all of their heads.

He had to be a part of this rescue mission, he had to help his friends … his brothers survive the craziness that he had unintentionally brought their way. He had to do this, no matter if he flaked out for two weeks afterwards. He couldn't abandon them, not when they hadn't abandoned him. He had to make this right. And if Familiar Stranger couldn't see that, then Sam was just going to have to convince him otherwise.

"Look, I'm sorry," Sam began, lowering his voice and pushing his pent-up frustrations to the back burner – he could use that frustration and anger later when or if he was confronted with anyone who would stand in his way to rescue his friends and brother – forcing his hands to unclench, and his jaw to relax slightly.

"I didn't mean to get so mad at you, accuse you of all of that but … I _need_ to help you rescue Dean. I can't explain it, but I _need_ to be there with you when you find my brother. I promise I won't get in your way, but I need to do this with you … _please_ ," Sam implored, his hazel eyes widening into his infamous puppy-eyed, earnest expression which had won him a few arguments with both Dean and Caelan over the years. And if Sam was having a really fortunate day then, sometimes he could even sway the great John Winchester with that look. But, considering Sam had just up and abandoned his family for two years, Sam wasn't too confident that he could convince his Dad of anything right now.

Sam could see the dilemma Familiar Stranger was in, not wanting Sam to go with him in case he obtained more injuries and not being able to resist the power of Sam's kicked-puppy-look. Sam knew he should feel a little bad for implementing one of his strongest weapons in his personal arsenal on this poor unsuspecting sap, but he couldn't find it in himself to feel bad so long as it guaranteed Sam to go with Familiar Stranger on this rescue mission.

Just was it looked as if Familiar Stranger was about to give into Sam's request, Sam caught movement out of the corner of his eye half a second before he heard a heart-wrenching scream of his dreaded childhood nick-name that he would only allow three people in this world to call him.

Dean!

Sam's eyes riveted upon his older brother's anxious green eyes and he couldn't help the gut wrenching _relief_ that rushed over him – Dean was alive! Thank God his brother was okay! – before Sam realised that the movement he had detected a second before belonged to three people who were moving upon Sam's position, now had their attention focused upon Dean.

Sam followed his brother's gaze to see two other people emerging from the opposite direction, their eyes suddenly trained upon Dean as well before Dean returned his gaze back to Sam, mouthing the word 'run' at him as the two teams of five men now descended upon his helpless and vulnerable older brother.

No! Dean!

Sam gasped, eyes widening with horror and dread instantly knowing that his – stupidly stubborn pig-headed – older brother had _deliberately_ shown himself in order to protect Sam once more.

Nope. Not this time. Sam was _not_ going to run away like a coward. He was _not_ going to abandon his brother and leave him at the mercy of these people because of something that was Sam's fault!

Sam's jaw set in stubborn determination, his right hand clenched in reflective Hunter's instinct and before Familiar Stranger could stop him, Sam pulled open the doors and dashed inside.

"It's me you want, not him. Leave my brother alone and come and get me you sons of bitches!"

 **SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW CH SW**

Caelan didn't notice the two sets of teams moving in on Sam's position – he was in the middle of making sure Caleb was in with the plan to run like hell toward the doors – but he did notice the way his friend's whole body stiffened.

Before Caelan could ask what was wrong, Dean darted out into the open, screaming Sammy's name in panic and Caelan was ashamed to admit that it wasn't until everyone's attention was focused upon Dean that he _finally_ saw the two sets of teams – five men in total – moving toward Dean now, drawing their guns as they moved in to surround Dean.

Caelan was just getting over the surprise of his rookie inattention to his immediate area – man, that was basic crap! _Always_ be aware of your surroundings! But he had stupidly and foolishly let his guard down while they were still in enemy territory – and was about to go to Dean's aid – because two people against five were a lot better odds than one against five – when the hospital doors opened to reveal a fully pissed off Sam Winchester, diverting attention away from Dean and onto himself.

Caelan stood there, mouth opened in shock and surprise as he looked from Dean to Sam and back again in bewildered disbelief.

What the _hell_ was wrong with these two? Both of them were willing to sacrifice each other for the other … and while that was an admirable trait, and something Caelan would no doubt do himself if the tables were turned, being in a hostile environment and provoking the enemy like this was not something John Winchester condoned. Especially if you had other people's lives on the line, depending on your survival to help get them out of the dangerous situation.

These boys _knew_ better than this! They knew not to offer yourself up as a bargaining tool if you could avoid it because nine times out of ten, the big bad supernatural _thing_ would use that to its advantage and you would end up getting hurt in the process before being rescued by your partner … or they would tear you limb from limb and kill you dead before help arrived, too late to save your ass. Caelan knew, he'd seen it before.

Caelan shook his head, clearing his mind of those unwanted images as he took in the scene around him. Now was not the time to be angry at _both_ boys for their reckless mistake of offering themselves up on a platter. Later, he would have great pleasure in chewing both of their asses out for this _stupid_ stunt.

But, for now, Caelan had to come up with a plan to get all of them out of here before _more_ of the organisation's personal arrived and they became completely overwhelmed … swarmed by the enemy defences being denied their freedom when it was just beyond those doors.

"Damn Winchesters," Caleb muttered gruffly beside Caelan. " _Always_ willing to _die_ for the cause, just like their stupid father!"

Although the situation was grim and Caelan agreed with Caleb's assessment of the Winchester family, he couldn't help but turn to Caleb, grinning with mischief as he quipped. "That may be true Hawkes, but I wouldn't let Johnny hear you call him stupid!"

Caleb paled visibly at that thought. "Shit no!" Caleb agreed. "I don't want to be stuck doing boot came extra training sessions for the next … fifty years! So, let's keep this between us, okay Hags? After all of the times I've covered your ass … you owe me!"

"Fair enough." Caelan conceded with a chuckle. "Consider it between us. What do you think Hawkes? There are only five of them. Think we should even the odds by revealing ourselves or should we hang back and wait to see what happens?"

"Do you honestly think you could stand by and watch the Winchesters get taken without doing anything about it?" Caleb asked skeptically.

No.

Caelan wouldn't stand by and watch while his _family_ was being taken away by this secret organisation. Maybe John could stand by and watch it happen – he'd been known to use his sons as bait on hunts in the past – but Caelan couldn't do it. Not if there was something he could do to prevent it.

"Okay, so what's Plan B then?" Caelan asked, refusing to meet his friend's eyes, a feeling of shame descending upon him because his family had been and always would be, his weakness.

"Don't worry, I couldn't do it either Caelan," Caleb told Caelan gently. "So, I suggest we go to opposite sides of these bastards, block them in and give our barely standing friends some help in whipping their asses before we all high-tail it out of here."

Caelan nodded, grateful for his friend's support and understanding. "I like it." He agreed to Caleb's tactical plan, his expression and body instantly in Hunter's mode, awaiting Caleb's signal in order to implement their plan into action.

 **CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH**

"Sammy, no!" Dean groaned under his breath when his younger brother barged into the building, baiting these goons to go after him and leave Dean alone.

What the hell was that kid _thinking_? Dean had provided a perfect chance for Sam to escape, but instead his infinitely _stubborn_ little brother had decided to put himself in danger in order to protect Dean.

Dean gave Sam a hard, irritated, frustrated glare and Sam didn't even have the decency to look ashamed or embarrassed, continuing to look at Dean with determination and satisfaction.

Didn't this kid know that it was _his_ job to protect Sam, not for Sam to protect him? And now, because of his stupidly, idiotic stunt, _both_ Winchesters were at the mercy of this organisation's hands now.

When John found out about this, both he and Sam will be running drills for months! Not to mention the disappointment and disapproval within his dark eyes because he had taught his sons' better than this. Just another damn rookie move the two of them had committed which could get them both killed.

And why the hell had that Nirkish guy let his brother make such a dumb move? Dean's eyes moved past Sam to where Nirkish had been, only to discover that there was no one there.

Huh. Well, wasn't that just flipping fantastic! The guy that was supposed to save them had deliberately run out on them, leaving them to face the enemy's wrath by themselves. Dean could only hope that Caelan and Caleb could come up with a plan to get both brothers out of this, otherwise the two of them were toast!

Well, not exactly toast. Because it wasn't as if neither of them hadn't faced impossible odds before and not come out winners. As much as Dean would appreciate the back-up of his friends at the moment, he knew that if it came down to it, Dean would find a way to save … at least his kid brother.

A stifled cry from Sam had Dean whipping his head in Sam's direction to see that two of the goons were on either side of his brother and pulling him toward the centre of the lobby; the one on Sam's left side _yanking_ on his obviously injured shoulder or arm.

The sight of his brother in pain, caused Dean to surge forward without giving it any conscious thought. "Hey!" Dean growled, his protective fury centred on the man that was causing his little brother pain. "Leave him alone, asshole!"

The man smirked in satisfaction when Dean's forward motion was halted by the other team of goons; two of them pulling Dean to a stop while the third one stood in front of Dean, cutting off his line of sight to Sam.

"Sam!" Dean called; fighting to get out of the hold the two goons had him in. Dean had managed to flip one of his arms out of one guy's hold, knowing that he could easily slip out of the other man's hold now that he had an arm free, until the third goon in front of him pulled out a gun, aiming it at Dean's head which immediately stilled the older Winchester sibling's movements. He'd be no good to Sam if he was dead!

"Sammy!"

"I'm here Dean," Sam replied. "I'm okay." He lied, the little hitch within Sam's tone indicating to Dean that Sam was in pain, although desperately trying to hide that fact from the enemy.

"Look, you have me. You can take me away and do whatever you want and I give you my word that I won't fight you, but you have to leave my brother alone." Dean tried to bargain with the goon that held the gun to his head; his tone low, calm and even, even as his heart pounded with trepidation, panic and fear for his injured sibling. As long as Sam was safe, Dean knew that he could live with whatever these assholes had in store for him … even if that included his imminent death.

"Dean, no!" Sam objected, not appreciating or liking his older brother's suggestion one bit; the guy in front of Dean cackling gleefully.

"Sorry Winchester, no deal. My boss wants to take the Demon Spawn alive. You, on the other hand, have no value to him what-so-ever. In fact, you might even say that you're … _dead weight_." He laughed loudly at his own dry sense of humour.

"Don't call my brother that!" Dean warned, his green eyes narrowing in barely suppressed rage. "He is _not_ a _Demon Spawn_!"

"Yeah, whatever Winchester," the guy said in an off-hand, sarcastic manner, a delighted gleam in his eyes. "It won't matter _what_ you think Winchester, because after I pull this trigger, you will be dead!"

"No! Dean!" Sam screamed, frantically struggling within his captives' hold, desperate to get to his brother's side before the man pulled the trigger and ended his brother's life for good.

 **DW SW JW DW SW JW DW SW JW DW SW JW DW**

"John, how far away are you?"

John glanced over at Bobby and the speedometer, calculating the speed and distance they still had to travel before they reached their destination before turning his attention back toward the phone. "Roughly fifteen minutes." He answered, his tone clipped and precise. "Why? What's wrong? You don't have the boys yet?" John questioned, not being able to hide the worry that seeped into his tone now.

Nirkish wasn't supposed to check-in with John until he had secured the boys, informing John of where they should all meet. John had received word from Nirkish when he had arrived at the hospital with Sam and that he would be attempting a rescue mission of the other three Hunters five minutes ago. John had assumed that Nirkish had everything under control, that he could handle a rescue mission of this calibre, no problems. Obviously, John had assumed wrong.

"We have a … slight problem." Nirkish replied almost hesitantly.

"What? What problem?" John demanded, panic making his tone harsher than he had intended, noticing Bobby looking at him in concern out of the corner of his eye.

"It appears as if The Organisation has all of them surrounded with no chance of escape. I would have been able to get them out undetected if I had the element of surprise. Now, it will be a lot harder for me to reacquire them from The Organisation's grasp without revealing my identity to them."

Nirkish paused a moment, letting the information he had told John sink in before continuing. "You _know_ why my identity must remain a secret and that they do not guess what my true intentions are. If I reveal myself now … everything I have worked so hard for, for all of these years will be ruined. I can not afford to lose the trust and faith that they have in me or your son … I will no longer be able to protect him."

"Yeah, bang up job you've done so far with that." John muttered bitterly under his breath, but Nirkish was able to detect John's bitter words easily.

"What do you mean by that John?"

"I have recently learned from the now _dead_ Hunter Marc Ley-Lamp, that he had been torturing and brainwashing Sammy for _years_." John stated in a scathing, accusing tone. "And that he had _permission_ from _your_ organisation to carry out his experimentation upon my youngest son. The very _same_ organisation that you want me to work with. Where the hell were you when my son was being drugged and tortured? You _told_ me that you could protect him."

A loud, irritated sigh sounded from the other end of the phone. "It is _not my Organisation_ John. This whole situation is … complicated. I protected Sam Winchester as much as I could … as much as they would willingly allow me without them becoming suspicious of me. Even though I am considered one of the elite leaders of The Organisation, you know how my brethren _feel_ about me."

"Right," John nodded, frustrated by Nirkish's lame excuses at _why_ he had failed his baby boy. "I remember now, they see you as an abomination." He said in a bored, dismissive tone.

"Yes, they do." Nirkish replied after a long pause. "Much like _your son_ is considered an abomination in their eyes as well. Sam Winchester and I have much in common in that regard John."

John clicked his jaw back in an effort to control the fury that was rising within him at that comment. His boy was _not_ an abomination!

"I apologize John. That comment was cruel and uncalled for." Nirkish admitted, his voice subdued and remorseful. "I let my emotions get the better of me. We can pick up this discussion later … once we have secured your friends and kin from The Organisation's grasp."

"Agreed." John reluctantly conceded, only barely managing to bottle up his anger for the time being. Now was not the time to give into that, he had to focus on the present problem at hand and not let himself get side-tracked so easily.

"You bet your ass we'll be talking about this later." John promised, his voice hard before he shoved that to the back of his mind, his attention refocusing to the dilemma at hand. "You said the boys are surrounded …" John paused as another thought occurred to him. "Please tell me that Sammy is still with you."

 **TBC**


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy.

If there is anything I have left out or you are still unsure about, please feel free to message me. You never know, I may have left it unintentionally unresolved for a reason (possibly a sequel).

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Kas3y** and **Cheetah Grrl** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Thanks to everyone for their patience and continued interest.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER FORTY-ONE**

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the impending impact of a bullet to pierce his skull, his brother's terrified screams echoing in his ears … but the excoriating pain that went along with a bullet wound never happened.

Dean opened his eyes, peering around him, his eyes widening with surprise when he noticed the guy in front of him with the gun, was laid out cold at his feet.

"Hey Dean, did you miss me?" Caelan stepped up beside Dean, grinning at his friend's shocked expression.

"Caelan," Dean breathed. "You son of a bitch!" he laughed and couldn't help the relief that was flowing through him. Trust Caelan to step in and save Dean's ass in the nick of time. "What the hell took you so long man?"

"Just choosing my moment brother," Caelan winked at Dean cheekily. "You know me … I've gotta make a grand entrance and be the centre of attention."

Caelan made a final sweep of the area before he gently grabbed Dean's arm with the intention of leading – _dragging_ if he had to – his friend out of the exit doors and toward safety. "Come on dude; let's get the hell out of here."

"But … Sammy –"

"Is fine. Don't worry Dean, Caleb's got the kid." Caelan assured the anxious, over-protective older brother.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted his little brother being supported by Caleb; the two goons that had kept Sam from him also knocked out cold on the ground. "Okay." Dean relented, allowing Caelan to escort him toward the doors.

"Let's get going before more idiots from the goon patrol decide to show up. And Caelan …" Dean paused, his expression unusually serious. "I owe you _big_ for this one bro," he said sincerely, offering Caelan his gratitude in as close to a chick-flick moment as he would allow himself with anyone, except Sammy.

"Anytime," Caelan nodded, accepting Dean's praise, his tone light, but also conveying his own true feelings with how he felt about Dean and would always consider him a brother.

Within moments, Dean was flanking Sam's other side, instantly putting out steadying hands to stabilize his wildly swaying little brother. "Easy Sammy, I've got you," Dean soothed, seeing the emotional exhaustion upon his kid brother's wobbling lower lip, tears welling in his hazel eyes at the sight of Dean while he desperately tried to keep his turbulent emotions under control.

"Dean, I thought I'd lost you." Sam wailed, his voice cracking and breaking under the strain of his emotional distress, knowing that this was just _many_ of the emotional breaks he would experience while trying to decipher and deal with everything that had transpired today.

"Yeah. I thought I'd lost you too, little brother," Dean replied softly, squeezing Sam's trembling shoulders, displaying his affection before relaxing his hold into a more secure, comforting, familiar grip. "It's okay Sammy, you're safe now."

Sam nodded, not trusting himself to speak at the moment as he desperately clung to his older brother, trying to regain control over his emotions, their freedom mere inches away.

Caleb and Caelan each had a hand to the exit doors, about to lead their injured friends out the door, when a bullet ricocheted off the ground in front of them, their way to freedom suddenly blocked as a wall of armed men descended outside the hospital doors.

"Please, gentlemen, why don't you stay for a minute? We have much to talk about."

The four Hunters exchanged looks of dismay, frustrated at being so damn close to freedom, only to have it cruelly snatched away from them at the last minute. As one, the four of them turned toward the voice who had spoken to them, their hope diminishing as the lobby was now crawling with more armed men and old man Senior Stewart – Roger Peter Stewart the third – smiling brightly at the front of the armed men, his soldiers ready to do battle, ready to shoot them if they tried to escape.

 **DW SW JW DW SW JW DW SW JW DW SW JW DW**

"I'm afraid not." Nirkish admitted sheepishly. "Sam Winchester barged into the hospital once he realized his brother was in danger … before I could stop him."

John closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, cursing under his breath, both frustrated and proud at the efforts his sons would go to in order to protect and defend each other from viable threats. John had obviously taught them too well to never leave a man behind.

"Okay. So now those sons of bitches have their hands on _all_ of my boys?"

"Not quite yet. But they will soon."

"So … what are our options then? Wait … didn't you order them to stand down? Couldn't you just march in there and put the fear of God in them and rescue my boys?" John half-pleaded, half-demanded as he silently urged Bobby to speed up so that he could _physically_ be there in order to help his boys. Being so far away and stuck on the road sucked at times like these.

"I _did_ order them to back down," Nirkish confirmed. "I guess I could go in there and … Oh. Unless my eyes deceive me, I think that may be Roger Stewart in there."

"Roger Stewart?" John repeated, confused now. "The _Hunter_ , Roger Stewart? _He's_ behind all of this?"

"No, of course not." Nirkish snapped in a rare display of frustration. "But … I heard that he was being dishonourably discharged from The Organisation due to illegal experimentation and illicit dealings.

Maybe … he _could_ be trying to redeem himself by reacquiring Sam Winchester for The Organisation. And if that's the case, then this whole operation at the hospital isn't sanctioned."

"That's good news … right?" John inquired hopefully, not understanding most of what Nirkish had just said. He didn't care. As long as it provided a way for him to have his boys' safe and out of danger … that's all he was concerned about."

"Yes." Nirkish breathed, sounding pleased with himself. "I do believe I can use this to my advantage without The Organisation becoming aware of my actions as well as saving your kin and friends."

"Good." John nodded, the knot of worry lessening a bit at Nirkish's confidence. "You do that. Bobby and I will be there in ten minutes. Right Bobby?" John gave the older Hunter a pointed look, his dark eyes displaying his urgency and need.

Bobby nodded, consenting to John's plan as he pushed his foot down harder upon the accelerator, urging his battle-weary truck to go faster, knowing by the look in John's eyes that they were running out of time, and that the boys were in some kind of deep trouble … again.

 **JW DW CH SW JW DW CH SW JW DW CH SW JW**

Dean's grip instinctively tightened upon his brother, knowing that there would be no way that they would be able to fight their way out with this many assailants. They'd be dead before they even took two steps.

How was it, that old man Stewart was able to amass such a large army of armed men in such a short amount of time? Had Peter Stewart and his buddy sold them out? It seemed oddly suspicious to Dean that old man Stewart seemed to know exactly _which_ exit the four Hunters were going to use.

Dean exchanged knowing glances with both Caelan and Caleb and knew that they had reached the same conclusion as he had. They should _never_ have trusted Peter Stewart!

"What do you want?" Caelan asked Senior Stewart, his brown eyes going a shade darker with supressed rage. "You can't keep us detained forever. And if the hunting community found out that you'd killed _other Hunters_ … you'd have a riot on your hands. Not even all of the power and wealth you possess would be able to protect you."

Roger Stewart spread his arms wide in a non-threatening gesture. "Relax gentlemen, no one is killing anyone."

Dean scoffed loudly at that. "Riiight. That's why you had my brother kidnapped from the hospital after he'd been _drugged_ and _tortured_ by _your son_ earlier today."

Roger gave Dean a slightly irritated glare before his fake warm smile appeared once more. "My _son_ didn't orchestrate or know anything about … _your brother's_ … earlier abduction and torture. He was a pawn, used to take the fall for that despicable behaviour toward another Hunter.

I don't know what you've heard young Winchester, but the Stewart family does not condone or take part in drugging and torturing people, even to … _people_ who deserve it and especially not other Hunters." Roger paused and eyed the three oldest Hunters carefully. "Honestly, I have no beef with _any_ of you. And my offer still stands young Hagen; I will give all of you a free pass, all I ask in return is that you – "

"Yeah, no thanks!" Caelan spat out, his teeth clenched together in fury. "I wasn't buying that when your son offered me that deal, what the hell makes you think I would accept that offer now from the likes of you?"

Roger raised his eyebrows as if he thought the answer was obvious as he gestured at all of the armed men around them. "I thought these guys might have persuaded you to think like any other rational human would. But I see that my courtesy has been wasted on you … _barbarians_!"

Caelan, more furious than he could ever remember feeling in a long time, the sight of seeing this miserable old man after ten years; bringing up memories he would rather have stayed buried and safely locked away; he was about to return Senior Stewart's mock concern and sincerity with a volley of angry words when he felt a hand pull at his sleeve, much like he would when he was a young child, which caused Caelan to instantly return his attention to the youngest Winchester.

"What deal Caelan? What's he talking about?"

Caelan shared a knowing look with Caleb before he met Sam's eyes once more, Dean's curious expression not going unnoticed either. Caelan let out a loud reluctant sigh. "Just before coming to the hospital, Peter informed us – me and Caleb – that we could all walk away, no harm, no foul."

Dean frowned, perplexed. "Are you crazy Cal? That sounds like a damn _good_ deal to me."

"There were _conditions_ Dean." Caelan said irritably. "We would be given a "free pass" as long as we turned a blind eye and didn't interfere with his plans."

"Okay." Dean prodded his seething best friend. "What conditions? What plans?"

Caelan shot a look at Sam before turning his attention to Dean once more. "As long as we didn't interfere with his plans to abduct your brother so that he could continue to _recondition_ Sam, we would be free to go and not be hunted down by the _organisation's_ tracking team."

"What!" Dean gasped, appalled by the very notion of willingly abandoning his brother into the hands of the monsters who would no doubt use _torture_ as a means of persuading him. "That's fucking sick!"

"That's why I told Stewart to shove his offer where the sun doesn't shine!" Caelan nodded in agreement.

"You should take the deal." Sam said softly, his tone matter-of-fact, neutral, devoid of any emotion.

"What!"

"Are you crazy?"

"Sammy, have you completely lost your fricking mind?!"

Sam held out a hand to silence his friend's and brother's protests. The last thing in the world that he wanted was to go back, being forced to endure endless hours of drugging, beatings and torture, his worst fears coming to life as they placed him in that dreaded box once more. But … if it was to save their lives and grant all of them immunity, then Sam was willing to do that. He was the one who had brought all of this down on their heads in the first place, it was only right that he should exchange his life in order to save theirs.

 **DW CH SW SW CH DW DW CH SW SW CH DW DW**

Sam looked at Dean, Caelan and Caleb, seeing identical looks of stubborn determination upon their faces, Dean and Caelan also staring at Sam with fierce loyal protectiveness. There would be no way in hell that Sam could convince any of them to leave him without probable cause.

Sam sure as hell had a lot of "probably cause" which he could use to convince them to leave him, but … did he really want to tell them the things that would hurt them? (Especially Dean and Caelan). Was he sure he even _wanted_ them to learn about or know about him that would make him more of a freak than he already was? Things that … well, after they knew the truth, maybe they would be glad that the organisation would take him off of their hands; maybe they would consider Sam a monster, someone they no longer loved and protected but _something_ they needed to hunt and destroy.

Sam lowered his gaze, bitting upon his bottom lip, fighting these damn _girly_ tears that threatened to slip free, taking a moment to compose himself, the mere _thought_ of Dean or Caelan hating him enough to come after him to hunt him and put him down, made his chest tighten in sorrow and misery.

Sam knew that if he told them the truth about who … _what_ he really was and what he had done … allowed to be done because of him that he was risking _everything_ … but he also couldn't allow them to fight for him, _die_ for him without them knowing the truth.

But … maybe he didn't need to make such a drastic decision just yet; maybe he could give them a little _push_ into accepting the deal Mr. Stewart had offered them by using a more subtle means of the truth … John Winchester's truth to be more accurate.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Sam raised his eyes to meet the concerned looks of his brothers and friend, a small trembling smile gracing his lips, preparing himself to make these three extraordinary Hunters see the reasonable side of things and why it made a whole lot more sense to just leave Sam here while the three of them got to walk out of here without the added burden of having to look over their shoulders for organisation members to take them out because of him.

"Look guys," Sam began, his voice surprisingly steady despite how anxious and nervous he was feeling. "Don't think I don't appreciate everything you have gone through today in order to find me and keep me safe, because I do. I appreciate it a lot. And I can't ever find the words to thank you or to make up for what you have all gone through and endured because of me."

Sam's gaze moved to his brother's arm, which was encircled around his mid-section, meeting his eyes in a pointed look. The only reason Dean had gotten shot today was because he had been trying to protect Sam from the non-humans who had taken him from the hospital.

Dean met Sam's forthright look and almost groaned out loud when he realized that Sam was blaming himself for Dean having gotten shot. Stupid, moronic little brothers! Didn't Sam _know_ that Dean would do everything in his power to keep the kid safe? Not only because it was his job but because he was Dean's little brother, and that was _never_ going to change!

Sam noticed Dean's eyes narrow slightly, his lips stretched into a thin line of annoyance, silently communicating to Sam that he was going to kick Sam's ass if he continued to blame himself for Dean having been shot.

Sam felt his lips twitch into a half-smile, the silent communication he could share with his brother filling him with unconditional love, support and peace. Even though Sam had avoided all contact with his family for two years, that hadn't stopped his big brother from coming to save him. Despite everything that had happened – past and present – it was comforting for Sam to know that he at least could always count on Dean to be there for him, no matter what.

Except … if Sam had to reveal certain things to Dean in order to save his brother's life, would Dean still be willing to drop everything and run to Sam's defence? Or would this be enough to make Dean abandon Sam forever?

Sam's smile disappeared, a contemplating, worried expression crossing his features. It was now or never. Plan A with John Winchester logic would begin. And Sam prayed that it would be enough to sway his brothers' minds because he honestly didn't want to see if his fears were unfounded or not if he had to reveal the horrifying truths he had learned about himself today. He didn't want to know if his brothers would look at him as some _thing_ to be hunted and killed.

Sam pushed that thought to the back of his mind, concentrating on the present as three pairs of eyes were looking at him in worry and concern.

"Why do you think we should take the deal Sam?" Caleb asked softly, deliberately ignoring the hostile glares he received from both Caelan and Dean, knowing that there was something the younger man had to get off his chest, not matter how much Caelan and Dean didn't want to hear it. The youngest Winchester had a right to his opinion just like everyone else.

Sam offered Caleb a grateful smile before his expression turned serious once more. "I've been thinking about what Dad would do if he was here." Sam refused to meet anyone's eyes as he tried to process the best way to explain himself to his friend and brothers without exposing too much truth that could hurt them, trying to keep his tone calm and even … logical. "And I think Dad would say that one life would be better odds to loose than three lives."

Sam finally raised his eyes to find all three older Hunter's with identical looks of shock. Sam resisted the urge to chuckle – more because of nerves than actual humour – forcing himself to continue with the same logical argument that John Winchester would use.

"I was the one who got you all into this mess. It's only right that I be the one to get you out of it. Accept the deal guys, walk away from here safe and … _alive_ and if Dad … " Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the fleeting smile trembling upon his lips before it was gone. "Dad will understand why this was the only option Dean. My life in exchange for yours … maybe he would even be … proud of me –"

"Don't be so fucking _stupid_ Sammy!" Dean spat out, interrupting his younger brother's pity trip, not liking the self-loathing he could hear in Sam's voice as he took a step toward Sam, his green eyes blazing with anger, having an urge to clip his brother around the back of the head for saying and thinking such _stupid_ things.

"I am _not_ abandoning you. That is _never_ going to happen even _if_ Dad agreed to this idiotic plan of yours. So, you can stop with all of this _bullshit_ and help us figure out a way on how _all_ of us get out of here in one piece." Dean gave Sam a stern, pointed look until Sam broke eye contact and lowered his eyes.

Satisfied that Dean had gotten his point across, he squeezed Sam's shoulder affectionately, his tone softening. "Okay Sam? We all get out of here together or not at all little brother."

"Dean's right," Caelan agreed as Sam's head shot up to look at him in surprise. "I didn't accept the damn deal before and I sure as hell am not going to accept it now just because of your misguided and misplaced guilt!"

'Yeah, we'll see about that.' A dark part of Sam's mind whispered viciously. 'We'll see if they will still be willing to stand by your side once they learn the truth about you.'

Sam closed his eyes against that voice, not wanting it to be true, but also knowing that it was a very _real_ possibility if they ever learned the truth. Still, Sam was willing to risk it all, to tell them _everything_ in order to protect them, to keep them save and alive, much like they had done for him throughout his life.

"Come on _boys_ … I haven't got all day!" Roger Stewart interrupted Sam's internal debate, a bored, irritated tone to his voice, even as his lips stretched in a fake, patient smile. "What is your answer to my generous offer?"

"No deal!" Dean and Caelan answered at the same time.

"They'll take it!" Sam interjected; his powerful, confident voice overriding his brothers' immediate decline of the offer, Sam's eyes snapped open, a sense of calm and clarity overcoming him now instead of his constant indecision and doubt. No matter what happened, Sam refused to stand by and watch his friends, his _family_ being manipulated, hunted and killed because of him.

"Well, well, well," Roger's face grew into a delighted, twisted smile. "I see you boys have a difference of opinions here." He paused briefly, considering the three Hunters in front of him as well as the Demon Spawn, who seemed determined that his comrades and brother accept Roger's deal and get the hell out of here.

This was a development Roger had not foreseen. He had thought he would have to fight them on this every step of the way. But now it seemed as if the Demon Spawn was in support of Roger's plan, wanting to spare is friends' lives in exchange for his own. Roger suddenly didn't want this game to end. He was curious to see what would happen next; how the Demon Spawn managed to convince them, sway them to take his more than reasonable offer.

"I'll tell you what, because I'm such a _generous_ man and I'm interested to see how this plays out … I will give you boys ten minutes in order to debate this amongst yourselves and come to your final decision."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief at Mr. Stewart's words. Thank goodness, he still had time to convince them to leave his ass behind while they –

"Sammy, what the _fuck_?!" Dean hissed, no longer able to resist the urge to clip his brother around the back of his head.

"Ow!" Sam moaned, rubbing his head, glaring at Dean angrily. "That hurt, you jerk!"

"Well, if you weren't such a self-sacrificing _moron_ , I wouldn't have to clip you, would I bitch?" Dean retorted, matching Sam's glare with his own, gripping Sam's shirt into his fist, shaking it violently, almost as if he could shake some damn sense into his kid brother's head.

"Hey, come on guys," Caelan easily stepped in between the two squabbling brothers, much like he had when they had argued and fought as children, seeing the fear on both brothers faces which was masked under irrational anger, deciding to take it out on each other.

Caelan placed a hand on each of the brother's shoulders, hoping that the contact would help to ground them, to calm and soothe the situation down before it got out of hand and out of control. "Let's just take a step back and have a breather, okay?"

The last thing they needed was for Dean and Sam to get into a physical alteration in enemy territory … especially since neither brother looked in _any_ fit state to be fighting at all!

"I was the one how got your father killed Caelan!" Sam blurted out, instantly regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth, but knowing by the looks of confusion and horror upon the three older Hunters expressions that there would be no way Sam would be able to back-track or escape from explaining this one.

 **TBC**

 _Atten: Hey guys, so this has gone on far longer than I anticipated, but I have set the pace of this story as it is and I don't want to rush the ending. Don't blame you if you are getting bored or tired of it and I'm not going to promise when exactly it will end because I always seem to exceed that anyway! And the boys just keep getting so chatty … And I have never been good at endings! Lol._

 _For those of you who are still with me on this crazy ride, thanks for your patience and continued interest in this story._


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy.

If there is anything I have left out or you are still unsure about, please feel free to message me. You never know, I may have left it unintentionally unresolved for a reason (possibly a sequel).

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Kas3y, kandilyn** and **Pie Love Luci** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Thanks to everyone for their patience and continued interest.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER FORTY-TWO**

A deathly silence filled the air after Sam's solemn declaration, Dean turning to shoot Caelan a worried, perplexed look as Caelan unconsciously tightened his hold upon the young man's shoulder even as he was shaking his head in denial, frowning at Sam in bewilderment.

"Nope. I'm not buying it runt," Caelan announced after several long seconds of tense silence. "Peter Stewart tried to sell me that lie as well, but I know for a fact that you had nothing to do with my Dad's death."

Caelan paused to take in Sam's increasingly pale complexion, his hazel eyes darting around guiltily and it wasn't until the kid let out a hiss of pain that Caelan realized just how tightly he was squeezing the young man's shoulder.

Caelan instantly loosened his tight grip, his checks flushing red with his own guilt, noticing Dean glaring at him darkly out of the corner of his eyes.

Caelan swallowed down his contradicting emotions when it came to talking about his Dad's death. Even though Caelan didn't want to talk about it, he had to get it through the youngest Winchester's stubborn head that he was _not_ to blame for what happened to his Dad eleven years ago.

"Sammy," Caelan began, his touch soothing now, his tone gentled as he captured the young man's wandering gaze with his own and held them in place. "You were just a kid when Dad died. He _died_ while on a hunt. How the hell can you think that you're to blame for that?"

Sam blinked rapidly at Caelan's innocent question, knowing that Caelan genuinely wanted to know why he would think something like that.

Sam hadn't meant to blurt it out like that. He hadn't meant to jump so quickly from John Winchester logic, straight to the horrible truth. But, now that he had, Sam's only option was to roll with it. Because Sam knew by the look on Caelan's face that he wouldn't be able to get out of this without giving the older Hunter some kind of answer he would be satisfied with.

"Because I am." Sam replied so softly that Caelan had to strain to hear the words, Sam biting upon his bottom lip in a nervous, unconscious gesture that Caelan hadn't seen the kid use since he turned thirteen-years old.

"I'm sorry Caelan, I really am. And although I didn't actually kill your Dad with my own two hands … I may as well have since it's because of me that he died."

Caelan's frown became more pronounced, the youngest Winchester's words not making any sense to him what-so-ever; and Caelan had to wonder if the kid had hit his head too hard and was now suffering from some weird form of concussion.

"So you see now why you should take the deal, right Caelan? You understand _why_ you should save yourself and –"

Gently Caelan squeezed Sam's shoulder once more in order to meet Sam's eyes as well as to stop the insane ramblings the kid seemed to be uttering. "Easy runt, take a breath, okay?" Caelan murmured, surprised to find Sam trembling slightly under the grip of the hand upon Sam's shoulder and he became more concerned than before.

"I'm sorry kid, but I still don't understand why you should feel any ounce of guilt over my Dad's death. Whatever these assholes have told you … it's not true. You need to stop blaming yourself for this right now and accept the fact that I am not going to leave you behind, nor am I going to accept that damn stupid deal."

Sam looked more upset than comforted by Caelan's words, which only caused the Hunter more worry, making brief eye contact with the older Winchester sibling in the hopes of finding out what the hell was going on with Sam.

But the shell-shocked look upon Dean's face, suggested to Caelan that Dean had no idea of what his brother was going on about either.

"You don't understand!" Sam's voice rose higher in distress, becoming more agitated in his desire to make Caelan _see_ that _he_ was the one responsible for Caelan's Dad's death … and not some stupid hunt or werewolf. "It was all a ploy Caelan, a trick to get me alone so that they could …" Sam paused, frustrated with himself because he couldn't explain it properly.

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm himself slightly, even as his body started to shake with light tremors of apprehension and fear because he had no way of knowing how his _brother_ would react once he was told the awful truth.

Sam cautioned himself not to feel upset, hurt or insulted when Caelan eventually pushed away from him, the brown eyes that had only shown Sam love, affection and kindness, now filled with disgust, horror and hatred.

Sam knew that he would accept all of that – hell, he'd even accept a punch or two of anger from Caelan for causing his Dad's death – as long as it spared his _brother's_ life, Sam knew that he would learn to accept it.

Sam stood up straighter, his hands clenched into fists at his sides – despite the pain that radiated from his left shoulder all the way down his arm at that movement – a worried, desperate look in his eyes, wondering if this would be the last time he would ever see Caelan ever again.

That thought stung, but Sam pushed it back with a determined strength that he didn't know he possessed at the moment because of how crappy he felt and proceeded to tell Caelan the truth about everything he knew pertaining to Connor Hagen's death eleven years ago.

"You're right. I _was_ just a kid; ten-years old in fact, but … it's still my fault that your Dad is dead. I honestly don't remember anything after Dad and Dean were … _lured_ away from me on purpose on the pretence of other Hunter's needing them for a hunt as extra back-up – "

A sharp gasp from Dean had both Caelan and Sam turning to look at Dean. "Sammy, what are you saying?" Dean asked, paling slightly at his younger brother's words. "Someone wanted us gone?" He felt sick to think that he and his Dad had unknowingly left his baby brother alone, defenceless and vulnerable while the two of them were off chasing …

"Oh God!" Dean moaned, suddenly remembering that by the time he and his Dad had arrived to help the other Hunters with the hunt – it had taken them _hours_ to reach their destination – only to be told that it had been taken care of; an apology for making them drive out all of this way for nothing and a promise from them to help lend a hand to the Winchesters if they ever needed it.

"We were fucking played! Those fuckers … but why Sammy? It doesn't make any damn sense as to _why_ they would do this."

Sam could hear the hurt, despair and guilt within his big brother's voice, knowing that this was nothing compared to the hurt he would be feeling once he found out that Sam had gotten their mother killed.

"To get me alone." Sam answered honestly and simply, offering his brothers a sympathetic smile before continuing. "It was a … trial run, an experiment to see how I would cope with the drugs and … that's not important right now.

The _point_ I'm trying to make is that when your Dad came to check on me, I wasn't alone and he … _saw_ things he shouldn't have." Sam swallowed hard, desperately wanting to look away from Caelan's penetrating gaze, but knowing that Caelan wouldn't believe him if he looked away or hid like a frightened child.

Sam would accept whatever punishment Caelan deemed necessary for Sam's part in causing his Dad to be murdered, the least Sam could do was to look the man in the eyes and tell it to him straight.

"So, in order to keep him quiet and to keep their secret, they … organized to have him killed. I'm so sorry Caelan, it's _my_ fault your Dad's dead. If he hadn't come to check up on me that night, he would probably still be alive today. So you see … your Dad's dead because of me."

 **SW CH DW CH SW DW SW CH DW CH SW DW SW**

Caelan dropped his hand from the youngest Winchester's shoulder and took a step back, too stunned to see the look of hurt and misery upon Sam's face at what he viewed to be Caelan's rejection of him.

He knew.

All of this time, Caelan had suspected that something had been _off_ about his Dad's death. Caelan knew that there had to be more to it than Connor becoming sloppy in a hunt and being killed by a damn werewolf. His Dad had been too good of a Hunter to become distracted and taken down by a mere werewolf.

Caelan should feel vindicated that after all of these years of gut instinct telling him that there had to be foul play involved, he'd finally been proven correct by Sam's … confession. But all Caelan felt at the moment was stunned disbelief and a rising anger.

Sam had _known_ what had happened to his Dad and hadn't said _anything_? In all of these years … why hadn't he said something? If he had, maybe Caelan could have tracked the son of a bitch down who had _planned_ his Dad's death and made them suffer … like he had suffered … like his Dad had suffered …

A burning, white hot rage descended upon him, reacting on primal instinct instead of reasonable logic, filled with grief, guilt, anger and hurt, an inhuman guttural growl ripped from Caelan, shoving the youngest Winchester so hard that Sam stumbled back into the exit doors, a distinct sound of cracking glass could be heard as Caelan descended upon the helpless young man, determined to take his frustrations out on the boy who had been partly responsible for his Dad's death.

Caelan reached Sam in three quick strides, grabbed him by the shirt with both hands and almost pulled Sam off his feet, violently shaking the youngest Winchester in his fury and grief, not aware of Sam's broken off gasp of pain or the terror that now lined the young man's face.

"You knew?!" Caelan's voice raised a couple of notches, the pain and betrayal easy to hear within his tone as he shook Sam like a rag-doll. "All of this time and you _knew_ what happened to him? Why didn't you say anything? If you had said something I might have been able to catch the bastard responsible or maybe even … saved his life!"

Caelan swallowed hard, the grief overwhelming his anger now, tears gathering within his dark brown eyes. "Answer me!" Caelan half-demanded, half-pleaded, practically screaming in the young man's face now, his body shaking with barely controlled rage. " _Why the fuck didn't you say anything_?!" Each word was punctuated with Caelan slamming Sam against the glass door, the glass around Sam squealing in protest. "God damn it Sam, _answer me_!"

The violent shove from Caelan had been a surprise; being shaken and yelled at was a surprise; but not being hit … that was something Sam had expected to happen when his friend's – _brother's_ – rage had exploded as he held Sam up against the glass door, but so far, Caelan had resisted the urge to punch Sam.

Sam would have allowed Caelan to hit him and _not_ fought back. As it was, Sam was offering no resistance to Caelan's almost out of control grief and anger, knowing that he deserved this … and more. Because of him, Caelan's Dad had been killed and nothing Sam did or said would _ever_ make that right.

Dean had started forward when Caelan had shoved Sam into the door, but a quick shake of the head from Sam had stopped him. Dean felt helpless, watching both of his brothers pain – Caelan's pain caused through anger and grief; Sam's pain caused through shame and guilt – the array of emotions passing over Sam's face, caused Dean's heart to clench and tighten painfully, Caelan's voice fill of grief and unresolved anger caused Dean to take an involuntary step forward in order to comfort and help ease his pain.

But the minute Caelan raised his clenched fist with the intent to strike his helpless, defenceless, in shock and in pain little brother, was the moment that Dean ignored Sam's warning look to stay back and stepped forward, placing himself in between Caelan and his brother.

"Back off Caelan," Dean warned, his green eyes narrowed, his voice low, just a notch above his dangerously lethal tone.

Caelan blinked, seemingly confused by why Dean had stepped in between him and the young man who was responsible for his Dad's death. "Dean, why … you heard what he said!" Caelan defended his actions, trying to reason with a clearly pissed off Dean Winchester.

"I'm sorry Caelan," Sam said softly, mournfully.

" _Sorry_?!" Caelan shrieked. "You're fucking _sorry_? Sorry's not going to bring my Dad back!" Caelan yelled, desperate to reach the young man behind Dean and –

"Enough!" Dean placed his hand upon Caelan's upper chest and held his increasingly aggressive friend in place. "You back the hell off Caelan, now! Or I will _make_ you back off!" Dean held Caelan's eyes; his green eyes growing darker, letting Caelan see the intention of his words and how serious he was. "Back off," Dean repeated for a third time, seeing a look of understanding enter Caelan's eyes at Dean's unvoiced threat.

"But –" Caelan swallowed hard, not understanding why _Dean_ would want to hurt him. Caelan was so far into his rage and grief that he failed to see that it was the kid that he had sworn to protect with his life that he was now trying to unleash his anger upon.

Dean moved closer into Caelan's space, their faces just inches apart, the protective older brother instincts flaring to life when he heard a muffled sob from his kid brother behind him. "If you were _anyone_ else Caelan, I'd be beating you senseless right now. So, if you don't want this to go any further … I'd back the hell off right now and leave my brother alone!"

"Hey, c'mon Hags, let's go over here a minute, okay?"

Gently, Caleb lead his distraught, confused and grief-stricken friend away from the Winchester siblings, sharing a look with Dean to let Dean know that he would handle Caelan and calm him down while Dean could concentrate on his younger brother.

Dean gave a brief nod of agreement, the muscle in his jaw twitching violently as Caleb led Caelan away and Dean fought to calm down so that he could help to console his upset little brother.

Damn, this was such a mess! Who would have thought that _Caelan_ would turn on Sammy like that?

 **CH SW DW DW SW CH SW DW DW SW CH SW DW**

Dean took another couple of calming deep breaths, seeing Caelan rip himself out of Caleb's grasp, still fuming with anger, Caleb talking quietly but softly so as not to be overheard by the goon patrol who were watching the altercation with stony expressions; some of them smirking, others tightening their grips upon their weapons.

Later, Dean vowed that he would have his own private chat with Caelan and _remind_ him how he felt about _anyone_ who put their hands on his baby brother like Caelan had. No one had the right to do that … not his father, not him and definitely not Caelan who should fucking know better!

Dean's eyes skimmed over the armed goon patrol, his gaze coming to rest upon the delighted, gleeful grin of old man Stewart. Oh yeah, Dean bet _he_ was enjoying this show. Watching as brothers turned upon each other because of something – Dean was sure – this son of a bitch had a hand in.

He just _knew_ , deep in his gut that somehow Roger Stewart had some hand to play in Caelan's Dad's death. Which also meant that he had some part to play with Sam being used as some kind of lab rat, being drugged and …

Dean closed his eyes, refusing to delve deeper into those thoughts. His imagination was already active enough – especially when it came to his younger brother being hurt – without adding _those_ thoughts into the mix.

Dean knew Sam. And while Sam had said things that Dean hadn't liked – like being drugged and the two older Winchesters being lured away so that Sam was alone – it was also the unsaid things Sam hadn't said that had Dean's big brother instincts screaming at him that something bad had happened to his kid brother that night.

Because it begged the question to be asked; what the hell had Connor Hagen seen that night that was so bad that people were willing to murder him because of it?

Dean shuddered, violently pushing those thoughts aside to be dealt with later, glaring at old man Stewart so hard that the old man's wide grin dissolved. Dean's lips curled up into a pleased smirk of his own, glad that he could knock the old codger down a peg with just a look before he squared his shoulders and spun around to face his younger brother.

Sam stood there, head bowed down, his long fringe covering his expressive hazel eyes, hands clenched into fists so tightly that Dad wouldn't be surprised if the kid drew blood; his broad shoulders shaking and Dean _knew_ … he just knew that Sammy was crying.

Well … shit!

"Sammy," Dean approached his brother cautiously, knowing from years of experience that Sam hated to be caught out having any sort of emotional break – especially when he was crying like a girl – because of their Dad's anti-emotional views.

" _Crying will get you nowhere son. The things we hunt won't give you a break because you're upset, angry or frustrated. Emotions like this will cause you to become weak or killed. You need to become_ _ **strong**_ _… men … Hunters … you're too_ _ **old**_ _to crying like a_ _ **girl**_ **.** _It's time for you to act like a man now …"_

Dean could recall his father's words to Sam not long after Sam had turned eleven. God, sometimes Dean despised that man.

Sammy should never be made to feel ashamed of his emotions. It wasn't his fault that he wore his heart on his sleeve, that he felt things more easily, sympathized and empathized with people.

This was pure Sammy, this was the essence of his brother's core and Dean sometimes envied the way that Sam could give into his emotions and not bottle them up, letting those feelings fester away at you until you became hard, bitter and cold. Sam, as much as he _tried_ to push back his emotions and be exactly like his father and big brother, there were times when it became too much for the kid and he had to let it out somehow.

Dean had always allowed his brother to vent anyway that Sammy needed to and sometimes … Dean was able to vent right along with his baby brother.

Dean smiled fondly at the memories, knowing that it was because of Sam that Dean's heart wasn't as cold, hard or unfeeling as it could have been if Sam had never been in his life to help Dean smooth off the rough edges.

A hyper-emotional Sammy had never been John Winchester's forte, but Dean Winchester knew exactly how to combat his emotionally distraught younger brother, having had twenty-one years' worth of experience.

Without stopping to think about it too hard and knowing his no chick-flick rule was about to be tossed for the next foreseeable future, Dean placed a hand upon the back of Sam's neck and pulled him forward, Dean wrapping his arms around his shaking little brother, holding him tightly, securely, protectively within his embrace, whispering soothing, calming reasoning words into the boy's ear.

It was no use trying to talk to Sam when he was like this. Dean had to calm him down first, get him back onto even ground before the kid would listen to a word that Dean had to say.

Dean wasn't normally a patient man, but when it came to Sammy, he had all of the patience in the world. No matter how ridiculous he looked or how long it took, Dean would hold his younger brother in his arms until the kid had calmed down enough where the tremors within the kid's body didn't feel as if it would shake his whole body apart.

"It's okay Sammy, I've got you." Dean soothed, squeezing the back of Sam's neck in a reassuring, comforting gesture. "Everything's going to be okay little brother, you'll see. Trust me kiddo, nothing's going to happen to you while I'm around. I promise."

 **TBC**


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy.

If there is anything I have left out or you are still unsure about, please feel free to message me. You never know, I may have left it unintentionally unresolved for a reason (possibly a sequel).

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Kas3y** and **Pie Love Luci** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Thanks to everyone for their patience and continued interest.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER FORTY-THREE**

Caelan hadn't taken more than half a dozen steps away from the Winchesters before Caelan planted his feet firmly on the ground, swinging his arm wildly as he ripped out of Caleb's grasp. "Get off of me!" Caelan growled, standing toe to toe with his friend, feelings of deception, anger and grief rolling through him.

"You need to calm down Hags," Caleb told his friend, holding out his hands in a placating, soothing, calming gesture.

"Calm down?!" Caelan seethed. "How the how do you expect me to calm down when … Sam just _admitted_ that he's responsible for my Dad's death and Dean … he's standing there, judging me, holding me back from finding the answers that I desperately need.

I considered them my _family_ Caleb, and now …" Caelan swallowed hard, a feeling of betrayal settling over him. "I loved them like _brothers_ , only to learn that _he's_ – Caelan gestured wildly toward Sam, his expression twisted in disgust and disbelief – been holding back on me for all of these years.

He _knew_ and he never said anything. Do you know how that makes me fucking feel? I'm a chump Caleb. I was foolish enough to let myself _care_ about them and now look what that's cost me! All of these years and –"

"Caelan, stop it!" Caleb ordered, his tone hard as he placed his hands upon Caelan's shoulders and stared directly into his friend's eyes. "Are you even _listening_ to yourself man? You sound like a whinny, bratty teenager.

Get your shit together and think about this rationally and logically. Take a good hard look at what Sam actually _said_ and read between the fucking lines man. Because this – how you're behaving and acting – that's not you!"

Caleb shook his head in disappointment when Caelan just scowled at him, glaring at him exactly like he had done as a child when he couldn't get his own way.

Caleb let out an agitated breath, wondering the best way to get through to his emotionally distraught friend, who was incapable of listening to reason right now, or thinking objectively about this matter considering that it concerned his dead father. "Okay Caelan, I get that you're pissed and you feel like you've been betrayed right now but … is this really the time to get into it? Here we are, surrounded by armed men and you want to pick a _fight_ with the Winchesters?"

"No," Caelan pouted, obstinately shaking his head. "I don't want to pick a fight with the Winchesters …"

"Well, good. It's about fucking time." Caleb breathed a sigh of relief, finally thinking that his friend was beginning to return to the guy that he knew and admired instead of this emotionally raw furious stranger that Caleb didn't even recognize. Because acting like this in front of the enemy … was another classic rookie mistake that John Winchester would no doubt kick their asses for later if he ever found out about it, and was something that Caelan – who was normally as cool as a cucumber and didn't let anything or anyone faze him – would never willingly allow himself to give into.

" … I just want to get some answers from the son of a bitch who's responsible for my Dad's death."

Caleb saw Caelan's eyes narrow darkly, glaring across the room toward the Winchesters where the two brothers were embraced in a fierce hug, which was something Caleb had never seen before … at least, not in front of prying eyes. Sam mustn't be doing so well.

Seeing the younger Winchester clinging onto his older brother as if his life depended upon it, the distraught, anguished look that Caleb briefly caught before Sam buried his head into his brother's neck, and the way that Caelan was staring at the boy so hatefully, as if he wanted to kill him right there on the spot, caused something inside of Caleb's normally cool, calm demeanour to snap.

 **CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH**

Sam had known it would hurt, but he didn't think that it would hurt this much. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sam had thought that Caelan would absolve Sam of his actions, he had thought that Caelan would tell Sam that it hadn't been his fault because Sam had been just a kid and had no control over the actions of crazy me.

But Caelan hadn't absolved Sam, hadn't forgiven him or reassured him; instead, everything Sam feared would happen, was happening. The look in Caelan's eyes when he looked at Sam had caused Sam to freeze on the spot, his heart falling down into the pit of his stomach, because of the amount of hurt, anger and betrayal he could see within his _brother's_ dark brown eyes.

Sam clung onto the back of his brother's shirt in desperation, the tears falling freely as he buried his head against his older brother's neck. God, if it hurt this much to have Caelan reject him, how in the hell would it feel when _Dean_ rejected him, abandoning him and his fate to Mr. Stewart's custody, handing him over this organisation who would do God knows what to him?

"It's okay Sammy, I've got you. Everything's gonna be all right little man; I'll make sure of it." Dean's deep timbre voice spoke to him softly, one of his hands rubbing Sam's back in a calming, soothing gesture, while his other hand gripped the back of Sam's neck in a familiar, reassuring gesture, offering Sam all of the brotherly support that he could allow himself to give while in the company of others.

Almost as if that thought was the key to reigning in Sam's emotional turmoil, he suddenly became very aware that they were not alone and he was being held in his brother's arms like a damn six-year old who had lost their lollypop or broken one of his favourite toys, while surrounded by armed men who were googling at them, smirking at them, revelling in the fact that the four Hunters were now at odds with each other.

Damn it!

Sam was a Hunter and a Winchester … the two things you did not show while facing off with your enemy – fighting amongst yourselves and giving into your emotions, whether that be fear, anger or heartbroken misery (according to John Winchester's Code of Conduct when dealing with supernatural or human adversaries.) – was now the two things that Sam was displaying and had given into while in enemy territory. His Dad would be so disappointed in him right now.

Sam hadn't revealed what he had to Caelan to cause disharmony amongst them or to make Caelan so wild with grief, hate and anger that he had let his guard down, forgetting where they were, making himself vulnerable, an easy target to the enemy or to provide these … _men_ with a show; he had done it so that Caelan may live; so that Caelan could understand that Sam's life was not above anyone else's and so they would take the damn deal and save themselves!

Sam gave his brother one last squeeze before he stifled his sobs and gently pulled away from his brother's embrace, locking down his emotions, a smile wobbling upon his lips, trying to reassure his concerned older brother.

"I'm okay now," Sam said, releasing his brother fully, standing upon his own shaky legs, determined to not let his fragile emotional wall break again – at least, not while they were surrounded. He would wait until the other three Hunters had left him and he was alone with his own thoughts before he allowed himself to fall apart again.

Showing the enemy this weakness was unacceptable! And Sam silently vowed that he wouldn't be giving the enemy any extra advantage by watching him fall apart. No, if they wanted to break him … they were going to have to work for it!

 **SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW**

"You stupid, arrogant, selfish son of a bitch!" Caleb whirled back toward his so-called friend, the livid look upon Caleb's face caused Caelan to step back in surprise. "You have known the Winchesters for how many years? You know what kind of people they are; honourable and loyal almost to a fault … hell, you practically helped Dean _raise_ that boy and now you want to _accuse_ him of getting your Dad killed?!"

"But you heard – "

"Yeah, I heard what Sam said." Caleb growled, interrupted Caelan before he could resume his pathetic and intolerable excuses about why he was being so damn hard on the youngest Winchester sibling. "You loved your Dad, I get it. You two were close, the only family you had, but your Dad loved those boys as well."

Caleb paused, trying to reign in his anger so that he didn't say something that he would regret, but then realized to hell with it. Caelan was acting like such a bratty child that maybe he deserved to hear the cold-hearted truth.

"Instead of acting like a jealous, needy _child_ who's trying to avenge his Dad's death, you should feel proud … he _died_ trying to protect Sam Winchester … a boy you have known for most of your life. Your Dad considered John Winchester like a _brother_ and those boys like his flesh and blood nephews.

Hell, you three boys grew up as if you were actually _blood related_ siblings. You know how protective Dean is of Sam; how protective _you_ are of _both_ Sam and Dean. Tell me Caelan, do you really want Dean Winchester as your enemy? You hurt his kid brother and Dean won't stop until he nails you."

"Maybe," Caelan mumbled sullenly. "But I made a promise to my Dad to avenge him … and that's what I'm going to do, no matter _who_ I have to go through to do it." He vowed, his expression hardening, his dark brown eyes fill of righteous fury.

"You still don't get it, do you Caelan?" Caleb clucked his tongue, bitterly disappointed with his friend. "Okay, let me put it to you in a way that will hopefully get through that thick skull of yours. You say that this is all about you avenging your Dad's murder, honouring his memory and all of that noble crap that we Hunters tell ourselves when we seek out our justice or revenge … but I'm telling you man, your Dad would _not_ want you to do this. You think he'd be _proud_ about what you're doing? Sorry Hags, I have to disagree with you on this one.

Your Dad was a proud and honourable man … what you're doing, how you're acting toward one of your own _brothers_ … using your crusade, your vendetta as an excuse to hurt _people, Hunters, family_ … your Dad wouldn't be proud of you Caelan, he'd be disappointed, disgusted, disgraced – "

Caelan frowned at Caleb's words, becoming more pissed off the longer Caleb talked. How _dare_ Caleb tell _him_ what his Dad would want or didn't want! Caleb didn't know his Dad … not like Caelan knew him!

Caelan's jaw clenched tightly, anger fuelling his actions now and before he even realized what he was doing, his fist had shot out and caught Caleb in the jaw, making Caleb's head snap back, cutting off his words once and for all.

"You shut your fucking mouth!" Caelan hissed, his voice low, deepening with rage. "You don't know _anything_ about my Dad Caleb, and you have _no_ right to lecture _me_ about vendettas when _you_ got your _own family_ killed because of your crusade for vengeance and justice."

"Well … okay then," Caleb wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand before locking eyes with Caelan, Caleb's half-smile not reaching his light brown eyes, his features twisted into a dark, menacing look as he stared Caelan down, the anger and rage he tried to keep under lock and key suddenly resurfacing at Caelan's words and actions.

"This how you wanna play it _Hags_? Well, okay then, let's play!" Caleb's lips quirked up into a demented grin before his own fist shot out, catching Caelan on the chin, almost knocking the Hunter on his ass.

"Come on Caelan; show me what you've got!" Caleb taunted, no longer caring about the armed men around them or the mission that had brought him here. All he cared about was teaching his friend a lesson he'd never forget.

 **CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH**

Dean eyed Sam carefully, keeping one of his hands on Sam's uninjured shoulder to offer him comfort, support and a little steadying hand, noticing how his brother swayed slightly from side to side.

Sam was definitely putting on a good show of _acting_ like he was back in control and back on even ground; and if Dean didn't know Sam as well as he did, he might even be fooled by his brother's act … but Sam's too expressive hazel eyes gave the kid away; showing too much fear, pain – both from Caelan's actions and words, and his own obvious injuries – as well as guilt and a touch of hesitancy.

But, like any good brother would do, Dean decided to let that go, knowing that it wasn't the best time or place to get into the kid's feelings right now. Instead, Dean ran a critical eye up and down his brother's body, searching for any new injuries the little tussle with Caelan might have caused.

"Are you hurt Sammy? Did Caelan _hurt_ you?" Dean asked, holding his brother's gaze in place, letting Sam know that this was not the time to deceive him, redirect him or shrug off the injuries he might have sustained because of Caelan's furious outrage.

Sam's eyes widened slightly before he shook his head. "No, of course not." He snorted indignantly.

Dean raised his eyebrows, his gaze penetrating and drilling into the younger man, which had Sam squirming a little under Dean's intense gaze, a faint blush colouring his checks.

"Well … back's a bit sore," Sam amended ruefully, bitting upon his bottom lip self-consciously. "But that could be cause through _anything_. A lot of … things have happened today or maybe the pain meds have worn off and –"

Dean waved away Sam's feeble attempt at excuses as he discreetly lifted Sam's shirt, peering at his brother's back, trying to locate the source of Sam's discomfort.

"Dean, stop it!" Sam gasped, his checks going a deeper shade of red, mortified that Dean was treating him as if he was five-years old instead of his actual age of twenty-one. He was a _man_ now who no longer required his brother's constant monitoring and care. If Sam said he was fine, Dean should believe him and not embarrass him like this in front of the fucking enemy!

"Quit squirming Sam," Dean warned, his green eyes darkening with fury when he noticed that a few of Sam's bandages were beginning to soak through with fresh blood.

Damn it, Caelan must have reopened a couple of Sam's deeper whip wounds when he slammed Sam up against the glass door like that.

"I'm gonna fucking kill him!" Dean muttered darkly, a long string of curse words leaving his mouth at the sight of new bruises beginning to form upon his baby brother's back. Caelan should have fucking known better than to manhandle his injured brother like that!

"It's okay Dean," Sam stuttered on a gasp as Dean's fingers gently probed one of the new bruises that was forming upon Sam's back. "I deserved it for having caused his Dad's death."

Dean paused in his gentle examination, the edge of self-loathing, disgust and guilt within his brother's voice not going unnoticed by Dean.

Dean cursed under his breath, hating the fact that _Caelan_ – someone Dean had trusted to protect his brother almost as much as himself – had caused Sam to sound so defeated. Nobody had the right to make his brother sound like this, and this was just another reason why Dean was determined to have "the talk" with Caelan about why _no one_ got to hurt his baby brother without feeling Dean Winchester's wrath.

Dean lowered Sam's shirt back into place, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly before he saw Sam's eyes glued to the ground, too ashamed and embarrassed to look Dean in the eye.

Dean grasped Sam's chin in his hand and forced Sam's head up to meet his eyes. "You. Are. Not. Responsible. For. Caelan's. Dad's. death." Dean said the words slowly and deliberately, hoping that it would stick in his stubborn little brother's head.

"No, I am Dean," Sam replied softly, calmly.

"Okay Sammy, let's try this again, shall we?" Dean huffed out an irritated sigh. "What the hell did you expect to be able to do? You were _ten-years old_ , and let's face it bro, you were kind of a scrawny kid and small for your age back then."

Dean smirked, pleasantly surprised when Sam shot him a weak bitch face – more of a grimace actually, but Dean would take it! – before he continued to try and talk some sense into his brother. "It wasn't your fault little brother, you hear me? You had no chance of being able to stop what happened, especially if you were … drugged."

Dean had to pause and swallow a large lump of emotion back. That word, the mere _thought_ of his baby brother being alone and defenceless because he had been _drugged_ , caused an intense wave of guilt to wash over Dean once more.

It was his responsibility as Sam's big brother to make sure that Sam should _never_ have to suffer through anything as horrendous as being ten-years-old, alone, scared, _drugged_ and at some fucker's mercy while he and his Dad were off on a hunt that didn't even exist!

God, he had been such a _blind_ idiot!

He could almost forgive himself for leaving his kid brother alone, but what he couldn't forgive was not noticing the obvious signs of distress his brother had shown once Dean and their Dad had returned to find that not only had Connor Hagen not arrived to check on the youngest Winchester, but that he was also missing.

Dean could recall now with an uncanny clarity, how Sam had clung to Dean when he got back and wouldn't leave his brother's side or let go of him, not even when Dean yelled at Sam to leave him alone, frustrated because his pesky younger brother was hanging around and not letting him do his job of helping his Dad locate the missing Hunter.

If Dean had been a couple of years older, he may have realized and recognized the subtle signs Sammy had given off that something was wrong with his little brother; the way Sam would cringe when someone other than Dean touched him or the way that Sam would wince every time he sat down as if it _hurt_ him or …

Dean closed his eyes and shook his head, disgusted with himself for not having realized or seen the signs earlier that his baby brother was in trouble. If he had, then maybe Sammy wouldn't have gone through the _punishments_ in his younger years. If Dean had been more observant, he could have saved his Sammy and stopped all of this before it had even started.

Dean blinked away his remorse and guilt, determined to do better. He couldn't go back and change what had happened, but what he could do now was stand beside his brother and never let him suffer through something like that all alone ever again.

"Sammy, you need to be straight with me now little brother," Dean peered into his brother's hesitant hazel orbs, Dean's expression deadly serious. "You told us that you couldn't recall anything from that night. You didn't remember Caelan's Dad coming to check on you, right? Because I remember you telling us that he never showed up at all."

"Right," Sam agreed quietly, anxious about where his older brother was going with this line of questioning.

"So, you need to tell me … did you just suddenly remember these events or … _how_ do you know this is what happened?"

A worried frown creased Sam's forehead, recognizing that Dean wasn't doubting him; he was just generally curious and naturally concerned about how Sam had come across this information.

Sam lowered his eyes briefly, biting upon his bottom lip, recalling how Sicko had bragged to him about what had occurred that night eleven years ago, how Sicko couldn't help but strip down a drugged and helpless ten-year old child while Sicko had his wicked way with him.

Sam shuddered violently, shaking his head to clear his mind of those disturbing images. "Sicko told me," Sam revealed in a low, haunted tone. "He was there that night. And …" Sam released a deep breath before meeting his brother's gaze once more. "I know what you're thinking Dean, but I don't believe he was lying just to get under my skin or drive a wedge between us. I got the feeling that … Sicko lost control and … it wasn't supposed to happen like that. He was there to test the drugs reactions on me, I guess, and not … to do what he did …"

Sam cut himself off the instant he heard the low growls emanating from his older brother, followed by the sound of teeth grinding together in anger.

Sam swallowed hard and lowered his eyes once more, not wanting to see the shame and disappointment that he knew would be reflected within his big brother's green eyes. "I'm sorry Dean, I really am sorry but … now you see right? Now you see why you guys should just accept Mr. Stewart's deal and leave me here, right?"

Sam's gaze rose to meet wide, startled green eyes. "Dean _this_ is what needs to happen for you guys to make it out of here in one piece." Sam began earnestly, trying to persuade his brother that accepting the deal was the right cause of action.

"You and Caelan won't be forced to argue or fight anymore. You two can patch up your relationship because you won't have to protect me or defend me from Caelan. And, it's not his fault that he hates me now Dean, it's not."

Sam continued, his eyes widening into his puppy-dog look, trying to plead Caelan's case, hoping that Dean would go easy on Caelan because Sam knew that Dean would be _devastated_ if he lost Caelan's friendship. The two of them were best friends … _brothers_ and Sam didn't want to be the one who ended that friendship.

"Come on Dean, it'll be better this way," Sam forced a smile onto his lips. "With me out of the way, you and Caelan can actually be _real brothers_ without having to worry about your pain in the ass little brother messing things up or getting in your way."

Sam was about to say more to convince his brother to just walk away and leave Sam's sorry ass behind but then Sam saw Dean's eyes narrow, his expression closed off, his lips thinned into the furious, protective dark look he would get whenever Sam was threatened or in trouble.

And in that brief instant, Sam knew that Dean was _never_ going to agree to Mr. Stewart's deal unless Sam pulled out the big guns and revealed the horrible truth about how their mother had died.

"Are you done?" Dean growled, his green eyes flashing with intense fury and big brother protectiveness.

Sam hesitated because the last thing he wanted was to have Dean hate him and despise him as much as his surrogate brother did right now. But, if it was to save Dean's life, then he would just suck it up and do it.

"Not quite," Sam grimaced when Dean merely stared at him with his stoic expression, knowing by the wave of emotions that filtered through his eyes that Dean was about to voice his objections, but before he could say a word, Sam rushed on to confess his greatest sin.

"Dean, I have another confession to make. And maybe once you hear what it is, you'll see that accepting Mr. Stewart's deal is the only option left available to you."

Sam took a deep, steadying breath, knowing that this was the hardest thing he'd ever had to admit to in his whole life, and decided that there was no easy way to tell his brother or to soften the blow of what he was about to reveal.

"The Demon was there for _me_ the night Mum died. Mum was murdered trying to protect me, because she got in the way and I … I have _Demon Blood in me_ Dean."

 **TBC**


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy.

If there is anything I have left out or you are still unsure about, please feel free to message me. You never know, I may have left it unintentionally unresolved for a reason (possibly a sequel).

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Kas3y, kandilyn** and **Pie Love Luci** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Thanks to everyone for their patience and continued interest.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR**

Dean's heart beat pounded in his ears, blocking out all other sounds at his younger brother's soft, reluctant confession.

Sam shifted from one foot to the other, chewing on his bottom lip, anxiously gazing up at his brother who just stood there, a blank, unreadable expression upon his face, his skin having lost its entire colour, turning a sickly shade of white, while he blinked repeatedly as if he was having a hard time processing Sam's words.

"Dean?" Sam whispered, wanting to touch his brother to make sure he was okay, but terrified of the reaction that would cause. What if he lashed out like Caelan had? And, as much as he was trying to convince Dean to accept Mr. Stewart's offer, what if Dean _did_ accept it and left Sam here to rot within _The Organisation's_ hands, a cold, dark and distant look in green eyes that had shown Sam nothing but love and understand? It had been hard enough to see the look enter Caelan's eyes; Sam knew that if his brother got that same look … it would _completely destroy_ him.

Sam swallowed hard, hesitantly reaching out a hand to lightly grab hold of the cuff of his brother's jacket. "Dean, please, say something," Sam pleaded worriedly.

"Something," Dean replied automatically, seeing the brief flash of relief enter Sam's eyes before it was gone as Dean struggled to comprehend what his younger brother had just told him.

It was no secret that Sam had blamed himself, suspecting he'd been the cause of their mother's death since she had died in his nursery, pinned to the ceiling and on fire, but both Dean and Dad had assured Sam that he was not to blame – how could he have been, he'd just been a baby for crying out loud? – and Dean had thought that had been enough to set his brother's fears to rest, at ease.

But now, looking up into his little brother's hopeful, desperate, guilt-ridden stare, Dean realized that Sam had still held onto that misplaced guilt, both he and his Dad having convinced the youngest Winchester of nothing or allaying his fears.

Damn, that was just another thing he had missed! Had Dean even protected his brother from _anything_ as a kid? Did he even know Sam at all?

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, not to help ease his brother's troubled mind or combat his fears. Dean cleared his throat and tried again, not exactly sure how he felt or even what he wanted to say to something that massive.

It was ludicrous enough that Sam thought he would leave him here, take off with Caelan and Caleb, living as long of a life as being a Hunter would allow, while taking Caelan on as his _brother_.

Did Sam honestly think that Dean could ever replace Sam with Caelan? Yeah, sure, Dean and Caelan had a strong connection and Dean had always considered Caelan _family_ but no one could replace his geeky little brother. Didn't Sam _know_ that?

Looking into expectant hazel eyes, Dean realized that Sam didn't know that. The kid honestly thought that Dean could go on with his life without him.

Dean scoffed loudly at that thought, knowing that the first thing he'd do once they got out of this mess was to set his stupid kid brother straight on a few things; the first one being how _important_ Sam was to Dean and how Dean could _never_ function in this life without him.

"Sam –"

"Do you hate me now too, Dean?" Sam asked in a lost tone, his wide eyes brimming with tears. "I mean, I understand if you do hate me. I mean, I hate me. And now you can just leave me here with no guilt or remorse, right?"

Dean was stunned into silence. What the fuck was this kid on about now? Hate him? Did he really _think_ that Dean could _ever_ hate him?

His brother was babbling; and not in a good way. Sam only babbled like this when he was extremely nervous or upset.

Dean raised a hand to run through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts together, noticing how his brother cringed away from Dean's reflective action. And it was with stunned horror that Dean realized that Sam thought Dean was going to hit him!

The kid was standing there, shaking, literally _terrified_ of his older brother and Dean felt his heart sink at that knowledge. Dean had never realized what a low opinion Sam had of himself … or of him.

"Sammy – " Dean started forward, not sure if he wanted to embrace Sam to take away his doubts and fears or smack him upside the head for ever considering such ridiculous notions.

But, before he could put either plan into action, a ruckus from behind him, reached his ears; gasps of shock and excitement, a few loud laughs and even a few shrill wolf whistles.

Dean didn't care what was going on behind him, all he cared about was making his little brother understand that Dean would never leave him, not matter what and no matter what he was told or what he thought, he was in no way responsible for their mother's death; but a gasp from Sam with a horror-stricken murmur of his name had Dean turning around to see what all of the fuss was about.

"Sonuvabitch!" Dean exclaimed, seeing the two older Hunters – Caelan and Caleb – slugging it out, punch for punch. What the hell were those two _thinking_ getting into a fight at a time like this?

The two Hunters had already drawn blood, their moves getting more dangerous, lethal and extreme. If they weren't stopped soon, Dean feared that one of them could get seriously injured … or worse.

But …

Dean glanced back at Sam, who stood there, eyes wide open, mouth hanging slack with a look of horror, disbelief and … holy crap … was that guilt?

Yeah, sure, why not? That was so typical of Sammy to lump this on his already guilty conscience as well. As if he had _any_ control over _either_ Caelan or Caleb and could have prevented this fight from happening. But, sure, why not feel guilty about _this_ as well? God, his brother could make himself feel guilty and responsible for _anything_!

"Sammy –" Dean tried again, hating to see the raw terror and panic he could see within his brother's hazel eyes.

"Oh God, I did this," Sam whispered, sickened by what his revelations tonight had unleashed. "This is my fault that – Dean, you have to stop them." Sam's soulful eyes penetrated Dean, pleading, begging for his brother to intercede before someone got hurt. "Please Dean,"

Dean was about to refuse to go and help out the two Hunters who should know better than to get into a fight while surrounded by armed men; but when his little brother begged him to help them, fear and helplessness within his eyes, Dean couldn't help but relent to the kid's heart felt plea.

"Okay … I'll got and stop those two jack-asses from killing each other." Dean answered in an exaggerated huff of annoyance. "But you, little brother, need to stay put." Dean eyed Sam pointedly. "Understand?"

It wasn't until Sam acknowledged Dean's order with a nod that Dean moved off in the direction of the two fighting Hunters, determined to set them straight once and for all.

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Sam watched as his older brother strode toward the two fighting Hunters – his friends, his family – his broad shoulders set into his determined purpose mode, a sick, nauseous feeling curling within the pit of Sam's stomach at the knowledge that he was to blame and responsible for the catastrophic mess that they all now found themselves in.

Sam knew by Dean's rapid walk and the subtle way his shoulders bunched and tensed that Dean was _pissed_ and someone – most likely Caelan and Caleb – were about to get a stern talking to, suffering from the infamous Dean Winchester's wrath.

Sam bit on his bottom lip hard enough to cause his facial features to twist into a grimace of pain, having a horrible notion that he was to blame for his older brother's irritated and volatile mood.

After what Sam had revealed to Dean, he couldn't blame his brother for being angry. Even though Dean hadn't reacted as violently or instantaneously as Caelan, Sam could still detect the disappointed look within his big brother's eyes. The "pity" look, as Dean liked to call it, had made an appearance and Sam wasn't sure if he should be relieved or worried by that.

Normally when Dean gave you the "pity" look, that meant he was done with you. He was done having your back, done going on hunts with you, done hanging out with you and having a couple of quiet beers, done sticking up for you and defending your actions, done being a loyal friend and hunting partner and done with having you in his life in any sort of manner.

But surely Sam had misunderstood. Surely Dean hadn't meant to give him _that_ "pity" look where he completely cut his ties with you forever. It had to have been _another_ look that he'd given Sam because Sam couldn't handle it if his big brother wanted nothing to with him ever again.

Dean's anger, as much as it caused tension and made things awkward and uncomfortable between them for however long it took Dean to work through his anger – could be days, weeks or months, depending on how angry he was! – was a hell of a lot better than Dean's "pity" look. Because if Dean was angry, that meant he _cared_ enough to become hurt or angry and there was a possibility of being able to work out their differences. But the "pity" look was final. There was no coming back from that … ever. Because that meant that Dean had given up on you.

Sam took in a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly, willing himself not to fall to pieces. He had made a promise that he wouldn't fall apart until he was alone, and he was going to stick to it, damn it!

Sam gritted his teeth together, determined that this was one promise he would keep. Not only did he _not_ want to fall apart in front of the enemy, but he also didn't want Dean to know or see how much his dismissiveness … the "pity" look had affected him.

Maybe that was his pride talking, but Sam would not allow Dean to see how much he was hurting because of Dean's actions.

Holy crap … that was exactly how he treated Dad. Dad would say something snarky, an off-hand comment which meant nothing to John, but cut deep and hurt Sam to the core of his being, causing Sam to instantly shut down to save himself the embarrassment and shame of breaking down, sobbing and weeping like some emotional teenage girl.

Or, if John kept pushing the issue, demanding an explanation from Sam or just kept going on and on about the mistake Sam had made, like a bloody broken record, pushing at Sam, backing him into a corner with no way out, Sam would become defensive and he lashed out in anger just wanting to get his Dad off of his back before he became an emotional wreck.

Dean had always understood Sam's moods; he'd always known what Sam needed in order to calm down or to get his mind off of things before Sam burst into tears or anger. But now …

Sam closed his eyes, his body trembling with deep sadness and regret, because Sam knew that even though Dean hadn't actually come out and said that he blamed Sam for their Mum's death, Sam could tell that his older brother _did_ blame him. Probably hated him now too, which was why Sam had received the "pity" look.

Oh God, this was bad! If Sam didn't get out of here soon, he was going to completely lose control!

Sam once again took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself, to strengthen his resolve – because he would deal with his emotional issues later. Now was not the time for sadness, regret, despair or guilt – before he opened his eyes and gasped in surprise as Dean and Caelan were nose to nose now, looking as if they were about to come to blows.

No, no, no, no, no ….

This was _not_ what Sam wanted to happen. He did not want his brother and his brother's best friend to get into a fight because of him – because Sam just knew that even if Dean had wiped his hands of Sam, it would take a long time for years of ingrained big brother instincts and protectiveness to disappear completely overnight and Dean was no doubt still defending Sam against Caelan – and no matter what it took, Sam had to stop this before it could begin.

Sam's panicked gaze fell upon the wide smirk of amusement upon Mr. Stewart's expression, looking at Sam in a calm manner, basically asking Sam what his decision was. Was he going to take the deal or not?

Sam shot a glance toward his friends and brother once more before he returned his eyes to Roger Stewart and inclined his head ever so slightly, indicating that he would take the deal as long as Mr. Stewart kept up his end of the bargain and let the other three Hunters walk out of here alive.

Mr. Stewart looked offended by Sam's silent accusation before he nodded, agreeing with Sam's conditions.

Sam closed his eyes as four armed men came forward to retrieve him, motioning him forward with their guns. Sam lowered his head in defeat, allowing two of the men to grab his arms and lead him forward, trying to convince himself that he was doing the right thing by allowing Mr. Stewart to hand him back over to _The Organisation_ once more for the longest and most intense round of … _reconditioning_ that he'd ever faced to date.

He managed to calm his panicked thoughts by reassuring himself that he was doing this in order to save the three Hunters from certain death, but he couldn't help the violent shudder that ran through him, instantly knowing that he would be spending a lot more time in that damn dreaded box, so that they could break him and bend him to their will before they rebuilt him for their own personal needs, becoming just another compliant member of this secret organisation, willing and ready to obey their every command.

Sam vowed not to let himself become like some of the other mindless people he had seen coming out of the _reconditioning_ facility, just as he was entering for his yearly dose of _punishments_. If it came down to it … Sam would have no problem in ending his miserable excuse of a life.

But first … first he had to make sure that Dean, Caelan and Caleb got to walk out of this hospital with their lives, unharmed if he had anything to say about it. And then he would go from there.

 **SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW**

Dean was getting more frustrated and irritated the closer he got toward the two Hunters who were behaving like _children_ and not the professionals that they were.

Because he had to break up the fight between the two men, that meant more time away from his brother than he liked. Sam was in a _bad_ head space and Dean feared leaving his little brother alone when his head was this messed up.

Dean glanced back to make sure that Sam had listened to him and was staying put, plus to make sure that none of these armed bastards approached his injured and deeply hurting sibling.

Satisfied that everything was in order – Sam was staying put and no one seemed to be anywhere _near_ interested in approaching his brother – Dean stepped up to the fighting Hunters and barged in between them, elbowing Caleb hard in the chest; causing Caleb to stop in his tracks, doubling over, trying to catch his breath because he'd had the wind knocked out of him.

At the same time that Dean elbowed Caleb, he landed a solid punch to Caelan's jaw, which made Caelan stagger back a couple of steps.

"That's enough!" Dean told them, the furious look upon Dean's face, warning both Hunters that he was deadly serious. "Have you two completely lost your fucking minds? What the hell are you doing _fighting_ at a time like this?

In case you haven't noticed … we are _surrounded_ by the Armed Goon Patrol, and _this_ is how you want to deal with that issue? By fighting with each other?!" Dean demanded incredulously. "Really, I expected more professional and _mature_ behaviour from the two of you. You fucking _know_ better than this!"

Dean turned to give a hard look in Caleb's direction. "You told me that you would calm him down … does this look like he's calm to you?"

Caleb turned his head to the side to spit out a glob of spit and blood before standing up, a look of shame and embarrassment upon his face at Dean's reprimanding tone. "You're right," he admitted sheepishly. "I'm good now; and I apologize."

Dean nodded, satisfied that Caleb's senses had returned to normal and he was confident that Caleb wouldn't be returning to such childish and reckless behaviour any time in a hurry.

"And you …" Dean pivoted on his heels to face Caelan who was looking at him in a calm, defiant manner.

"I've done nothing wrong." Caelan said, his dark brown eyes challenging Dean to tell him differently.

"You've done nothing wrong?" Dean repeated, shocked at his friend's cavalier manner. He was the one who'd started this whole fucking mess! He was the one who'd slammed his already injured little brother up against the glass door, causing him more injuries, deepening the guilt, shock and remorse within his baby brother's eyes.

"Nothing wrong, huh?" Dean's voice lowered, his eyes squinting together as a sudden rush of anger surged through him.

"Caleb was the one who decided to bring my father into this. He was the one who threw the first punch." Caelan countered.

Dean closed the distance between them in a blink of an eye, grabbing Caelan's shirt with both of his hands, his expression contorted in anger, pulling Caelan even closer toward him. "I don't care what Caleb said or didn't say. I don't care what Caleb did or didn't do. What I do care about is the fucking bruises you put on my baby brother's back, causing some of his words to reopen because _you_ thought it was a good fucking idea to slam him up against a glass door several times!"

Caelan blinked, shocked and surprised by Dean's ferocious protectiveness over someone who was responsible for his Dad's death, someone who was … little Sammy Winchester. The same kid that he had helped Dean raise; the same kid who could cause his heart to melt and give into his demands when Sam gave him the dreaded "puppy-eyes"; the same kid who's heart was so big, that sometimes he felt sorry for the monsters they hunted; the same kid who had called _him_ for help this morning, drugged, confused, scared, alone and hurt …

Holy crap, what the hell was he doing?

Where did this sudden burst of unrestricted, unbridled, almost animalistic rage come from? Caleb was right. This wasn't him. Caelan didn't lose his shit like this, he didn't lose control of his emotions or give into the anger he knew resided inside of him.

Especially since he _knew_ there was no way that the kid was responsible for his Dad's death. It hadn't been his fault, Caelan _knew_ that. But the feelings surging within him and the vicious, horrible words that expelled from him were _not_ his own actions or words, Caelan suddenly realized. Something was horribly, terribly wrong with him …

"Dean …" Caelan tried to warn his friend, make him understand that _something_ was causing Caelan to act in this manner, but Dean interrupted him, not wanting to hear his excuses at the moment.

"What in the hell is wrong with you Caelan?" Dean demanded in a low hiss. "You beat up on _my brother_ for something that happened _years_ ago?" Dean held up a hand to stop his friend's protests. "Yeah, I know, I heard what Sam said, but _dude_ … did you happen to hear what _Sam said_?"

Caelan frowned, cocking his head to the side, perplexed as the _other_ feelings, thoughts and emotions swarmed over him once more, clouding his internal scream of frustration that this wasn't him and something was very wrong before the _other him_ took over once more.

Yes, he'd heard what Sam had said. Why would Dean ask him that in such an anguished, haunted tone?

"Dude, I really don't want to fight with you and cause these guys to have more entertainment and gain more enjoyment out of this than they already have. So, I'm going to take a step back and talk to you rationally and calmly about this, without either one of us throwing a punch … okay?"

With a control Dean didn't know he possessed, because every fibre of his being was crying out for Caelan's blood for what he did to Sam, Dean let go of Caelan's shirt and took half a step back, watching Caelan's reaction carefully, on guard in case Caelan decided to throw a punch in his direction.

When that didn't happen, Dean let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and rolled his shoulders to ease some of his tension.

"Okay, this is good." Dean offered Caelan a crooked smile before getting down to the crux of the disagreement between them. "Okay, I get that you're pissed at Sam right now but if you recall what _he_ said, Sam started off by telling us that he _couldn't remember_ what happened that night, so _someone_ has obviously told him this … right?"

Dean began, keeping his tone as even and neutral as possible while discussing this delicate matter that Caelan had reacted to so violently, obviously the wound still raw and unresolved since his father's death.

Caelan clicked his jaw back, even the _not him_ conceding that Dean had a valid point, his grief-stricken rage beginning to simmer as more of the _real_ Caelan started to take back control.

"Now, I know what it feels like to want revenge and to avenge someone you love, someone you've lost … believe me, I know," Dean continued, his tone calming and more pleading instead of protective and lethal, seeing dawning realization enter his friend's eyes. "But don't let your need for vengeance _blind_ you brother. Sammy may be a lot of things – a pain in my ass most of the time – but he is not and never will be a stone cold killer."

Dean relaxed slightly when he saw Caelan's irrational anger morphing into careful consideration. He placed a hand upon Caelan's tense shoulder, forcing a smile onto his lips. "If Sammy had known or remembered what happened to your Dad Caelan, he would have _told_ us. Of that, I am one hundred percent certain.

He loved your Dad as much as I did and I know right now that it's hard to see past your grief … but Caelan, brother, _please_ … this is _Sammy_ ; _our baby brother_ and you want to give him grief over something he had no control over? Do you really think a scrawny ten-year old Sammy would have _stopped_ that from happening?"

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "If you're looking for someone to blame brother, then blame my Dad, blame me. _We_ were the ones who left Sammy; _we_ were the ones who asked your Dad to look in on him. _We_ are to blame Caelan, not Sammy."

Dean's heart felt plea on his brother's behalf caused Caelan's control to strengthen. He didn't _want_ to _blame_ his brothers for this. He didn't want to hurt them, but the unknown element within him was clinging to Caelan with a tenacious will that surprised Caelan.

But still, Caelan fought it … with everything he had because he had to make Dean see … he had to make Dean _understand_ that it hadn't been _him_ who had hurt Sammy or fought with Caleb.

These actions were not something Caelan would give in to or do – even if they weren't surrounded by armed men who were now completely focused on the task of keeping the Hunters from leaving the building.

"Deeannn …" Caelan forced through his numb lips as he desperately fought for control. "Some … t'hng not … right … help me!"

 **TBC**


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy.

If there is anything I have left out or you are still unsure about, please feel free to message me. You never know, I may have left it unintentionally unresolved for a reason (possibly a sequel).

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **kandilyn** and **Guest** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Thanks to everyone for their patience and continued interest.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE**

Dean's eyebrows shot up into his hair-line at his friend's words and instinctively moved forward to steady Caelan when he stumbled.

What the fuck …

Callous laughter filled the air, and it didn't take Dean too long to discover that the source of that laughter was coming from none other than old man Stewart.

"What did you _do_ to him?" Dean demanded, furious at himself for believing that Caelan would turn against them … against Sammy like that. He should have known that something was off with his friend. "Fix him!" Dean roared, his tone low and lethal. "Now!"

"Oh, _relax_ young Winchester," Roger Stewart dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Your friend will be _fine_. The drug Elizabeth slipped him shouldn't wear off for another hour or so. I'm quite impressed with your resilience Caelan."

Both Caelan and Dean glared hatefully at Roger Stewart.

"'What drugs?' you ask. Well, it's just a little something that I cooked up in the lab, enhancing your more … primal and volatile emotions. Side effects are that it clouds all reasoning capabilities and makes you do things you wouldn't normally do, and … are you experiencing numbness Caelan? That might be something else to add to the side effects label when it's on the market." Old man Stewart mused thoughtfully before snarling brought him back to the present once more.

"I know what you're going to say," the old lunatic continued, deliberately ignoring the two growling Hunters before him. "And while it may have been _wrong_ and … evil of me to use young Hagen as a guinea pig for this recently manufactured drug … I must say that I am pleased with the results and how it has performed to enhance the emotions I was aiming for.

Plus, it provided all of us here with some great entertainment from you boys. You guys have put on a fantastic show for us!" Roger grinned at the three Hunters before him, clapping his hands together gleefully.

"Of course, what I _wanted_ it do was to cause Hagen to become so completely overwhelmed and lost in his own anger that he attacked you two head-on – Roger motioned to Dean and Caleb with his hand – knocking you both out so that we could take the Demon Spawn without any more ridiculous fuss; because I really don't want to hurt you three if I can help it. Oh well, a little bit more tweaking and I am sure to eventually get the reaction that I want." He shrugged casually, dismissively, while the three Hunters stared at him in stunned disbelief.

This guy deliberately concocted a drug this dangerous, reckless and volatile in a lab just so he could watch people _turn_ on each other? What the fuck was wrong with him?

"Were you dropped on your head as a baby?" Dean blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Most probably," Roger smirked without any real humour, deliberately not rising to Dean's obvious bait. "Oh, before I go … just a little FYI; the night your father was mauled to death by the werewolf … the night he walked in on Marc's associate fully banging the shit out of the young Demon Spawn … was really just an excuse to get rid of your father.

You see Caelan, Connor was going to die – he was getting to damn inquisitive for his own good, mounting a good case against The Organisation and who some of the members were – it was only a matter of time.

So, when he … saw what he saw, we took it as a sign that the time had come for his imminent death. I drugged Connor up so badly that he couldn't even see straight – let alone think straight … curtsey to a couple of cocktails from my own personal collection – and dumped him right in front of the werewolf's hunting ground. Poor Connor didn't stand a chance!" Roger laughed, delighted when he saw the red, hot anger enter Caelan's eyes.

"You killed my Dad?" Caelan ground out of a clenched jaw, not wanting to give into his anger in case the drug that was still in his system decided to take control once more.

"Well … technically the werewolf killed your father. But I definitely helped in supplying your father with the drugs as well as a couple of other colleagues who were in on the plan."

"You sick son of a bitch!" Caelan lunged forward, attempting to rip the pompous man's head from his shoulders, but the wall of armed men halted him in his tracks.

"Hmm, maybe," Roger conceded with a smug smile. "But the reason I tell you this, not only because it amuses and delights me to witness your emotional pain, but because I'm not scared of _you_ or the _hunting community_. Let them come after me and they will face the whole might of The Organisation's wrath!"

Roger paused a moment to let that sink into the three stunned Hunters minds before he motioned most of his armed soldiers back. "Well, it's been fun, but … a deal is a deal. So, true to my word … you three are free to go."

"Wait, what?" Dean's eyes moved to where his brother had been standing, only to find it empty. Frantically he searched the lobby until he came across four armed men surrounding a figure that Dean would recognize anywhere the two guarding the front and back raised their guns in warning as Dean automatically started forward to his brother's aid.

"Sammy!"

Sam's mop of shaggy hair shot up, his hazel eyes connecting with his older brother's worried, anxious green eyes. Sam offered Dean a small shaky smile. "It's okay Dean. I've got this." He tried to reassure and soothe his brother, a look of sad acceptance upon his features.

"No! Sammy, no!" Dean screamed out, struggling to reach his brother as Sam was being led back toward old man Stewart and closer towards the dreaded hospital that they were all trying to escape.

 **DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW**

Sam kept his head lowered, not wanting to see the triumphant, gleeful, gloating looks upon the enemy's faces, knowing that they had successfully bagged themselves a Demon Spawn who was offering up no resistance, allowing them to herd him wherever they wanted because they had the ultimate bargaining tools to gain his co-operation, his friends, his family. They knew that Sam wouldn't fight as long as they had the three Hunters to use as leverage.

A sense of shame coloured Sam's checks, knowing how vulnerable and pathetic he looked, but having no other choice if he wanted Dean and his friends to live. Regardless of what they now thought of him, even if they hated and despised him, disgusted that they had ever called him their own, Sam knew that he couldn't let them die here.

Not like this and definitely not because of him!

Silence filled the lobby so intense that you could hear a pin drop and Sam deducted that he must be close to his destination, everyone probably getting a good hard look at this young man – Demon Spawn – who had caused everyone so much trouble today.

Sam willed his body to stop shaking, no matter what happened now, he would not show one ounce of fear toward these bastards. He was still, in his heart, a proud Hunter and Winchester, both of those identities demanding Sam to conduct himself in a certain manner … even when he was in the enemy's grasp and there looked to be no escape.

He _would not_ be an embarrassment to his beloved older brother's name. He would show these bastards that the name Winchester, was still a name to be feared … a name to be reckoned with.

A straggled cry of his dreaded nickname 'Sammy' had Sam whipping his head up to see his brother.

Sam was surprised to see no anger, disappointment or disgust within his brother's eyes. Instead, all Sam saw was immense worry and concern for him.

Sam smiled, his heart feeling lighter than it had since Sam had walked away from his family in order to protect them, suddenly realizing that maybe he had misread his brother's look earlier. Maybe Dean didn't blame him or hate him.

Still, none of that mattered if Dean was dead. So, Sam was only too willing to sacrifice his life in exchange for his brother's. Dean had protected him as much as he could for all of Sam's life. Now, Sam was going to protect Dean. Just this once, Sam was going to protect and save his big brother.

"It's okay Dean," Sam said with more confidence than he felt, the smile trembling upon his lips. "I've got this." He assured his brother, noticing the panic enter those familiar green eyes.

"No! Sammy, no!"

The alarm within Dean's voice had Sam automatically wanting to go to his brother's side. Without consciously aware of his actions, Sam jerked his body to the left, heading toward Dean's position, instinctively wanting to take away the fear and panic he could see radiating throughout Dean's body.

Dean's eyes widened, struggling to get through the wall of armed men, his shout of warning coming a split second too late as Sam felt intense pain at the back of his head before succumbing to the darkness of unconsciousness as he crumbled to the ground, defenceless, vulnerable and completely at the mercy of the enemy.

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John didn't even wait for Bobby to come to a complete stop before he had the door open and was practically running down the street toward the hospital, the recent stitches he'd received, pulling, a sharp pain running through his side; but John ignored it, too anxious to get to his boys to worry about pulling a few stitches.

"Damn it Johnny, wait for me!" Bobby cussed behind him, grabbing the weapons bag and locking up before he sprinted after the stubborn, fool Winchester who was going to get himself killed one of these days because of his damn fool reckless behaviour!

They had decided to park the truck a short distance from the hospital so as not to draw attention to themselves, but the way John was tearing through the streets like a mad man, as if he had the Devil himself chasing him, Bobby knew that their presence wouldn't be difficult to detect at all; especially if these people had look-outs, searching the area for intruders. If they were as good as Bobby heard they were, it wouldn't take them long to locate the two men.

Bobby eventually caught up to John before he rounded the corner which would bring them to the hospital's front doors. Bobby had to assume that he had only caught up to the ex-marine because of his injury that was obviously slowing him down greatly.

Bobby grabbed hold of John's arm and yanked him back behind the bushes, out of sight from enemy eyes and fire.

John wrenched himself out of Bobby's grasp, glaring at the older Hunter so hard that if looks could have killed, Bobby would have been dead on the spot!

His dark eyes were blown wide with fear, anger and pain; his body language tense, silently communicating to Bobby to back off, and if he got in John's way, John wouldn't hesitate to forcibly remove him from the equation. Nothing and no one was going to stop him from getting to his boys … not when he was so close to them!

"Easy Johnny," Bobby held out his hands in a soothing, calming gesture. "You and I both want the same thing here; to get our boys back."

John raised his eyebrows at Bobby's use of the words 'our boys', but said nothing, impatiently waiting for his old friend to continue. He was the one who had dragged Bobby into this mess. The least he could do was to hear him out. But he better make it quick, because John had a sinking feeling in his gut that his boys were running out of time!

"Tearing in there, half-cocked isn't going to do _you_ or those boys any good."

John grunted, reluctantly conceding that Bobby had a point. "What do you suggest then Singer?" John demanded, his voice gruff and tense, worry for his boys' safety causing him to become more irritated and short-tempered than usual. "Make it quick Bobby, because we're running out of time!" And John couldn't help but notice the desperate quality that had entered his tone.

"Well, for starters, how 'bout you take a damn weapon with you before you charge in there with nothing to defend yourself with!" Bobby snorted with more affection than actual heat, relaxing slightly now that he knew John was calmed down enough to listen to him.

Sheepishly, John took the gun from Bobby's hands. "That would be a good start," John grudgingly admitted, his checks colouring slightly at his impetuous and reckless behaviour.

This is what happened when you let your emotions cloud your judgement! John silently berated himself. You make one simple mistake and it could cost you not only your life but your loved ones as well. That's why logic and precision – no matter how cold it may seem – was a hell of a lot better than running on pure emotion. It was exactly the kind of thing he had warned his boys about repeatedly on numerous occasions; and now, here he was, doing the exact opposite of what he had told them. Rookie thinking like that was going to get them all killed!

John growled, annoyed with himself, quickly pushing his emotions to the side, his cool, logical Hunter persona taking over as he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay Bobby, what's our plan?"

Bobby's lips twitched in approval when John's dark eyes cleared, a determined focus settling upon him. Good, now that John Winchester's head was back in the game, they could get back to business.

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Dean ceased his struggles momentarily, watching in horror as the rear guard to Sam's little posse raised his gun, slamming the butt of his rifle hard against the back of his head, causing Sam to instantly collapse in a heap on the ground, unconscious before he had even hit the floor.

Dean was livid as he glared up at the soon to be dead son of a bitch who was looking back at Dean, smirking smugly, knowing that Dean wasn't in any position to do anything to him or to stop him from hurting his precious little brother.

Dean's eyes narrowed, committing this guy's facial features to memory. Because once Dean got out of this – with Sam – the first thing he was going to do was to track this asshole down and beat the fucking shit out of him.

The asshole in question, gave Sam a swift, hard kick to the ribs, causing Sam to grunt, instinctively curling in on himself in protection, even while knocked out and Dean found himself wincing in sympathy before raising heated eyes to level at this guy's calm, almost bored expression.

Oh, this guy was _so_ fucking dead!

"Darryl, that's enough." Old man Stewart told the soon to be dead asshole, and Dean couldn't help but smile at the annoyed look upon _Darryl's_ face as he reluctantly stopped deliberately trying to antagonize the oldest Winchester sibling. And now that Dean had a _name_ to go with the face, it would be a lot easier for him to track this bastard down.

"Bring him over to me Darryl; and you … Kyle." Old man Stewart ordered before sweeping his gaze around the lobby. "The rest of you can stand down and return to your previous assignments, except for you six up the front and the four of you with the Demon Spawn … I shall be requiring your assistance for just a little bit longer before we send our Hunter friends on their merry little way."

Dean tracked the two goons who supported his brother between them, and dragged him toward old man Stewart. Dean gritted his teeth, swallowing back the low growl of anger as he noticed how Sam's legs dragged upon the ground, the goons not having any consideration for Sam's previous injuries and obviously wasn't too fazed about whether Sam acquired more bruises from their rough treatment to his baby brother's already badly beaten and bruised body.

Dean was positive that they were deliberately trying to get a rise out of him at the reckless way they allowed Sam's lower legs to bounce upon the ground as well as knocking them into all of the waiting room chairs between them and old man Stewart.

Oh man, his brother's legs were going to be black and blue tomorrow … hopefully that's all Sam received from this inhuman treatment. Because if Sam got anything worse … Dean would have no problem in repaying the favour to these guys; in fact, he would have great pleasure in inflicting the injuries upon those SOBS that they now put upon his helpless baby brother.

Dean glared hard at old man Stewart, feeling a lot more at ease when the majority of the Armed Goon Patrol left the lobby, leaving only ten armed men, including the two idiots who held Sam between them, plus old man Stewart, who didn't pose much of a threat as far as Dean was concerned. Even though he was a Hunter; he was more of a Hunter who didn't like to dirty his own hands too much by being involved with the hunts of the monsters. And when he _did_ go on actual hunts, Dean had heard that his entourage of body guards followed him every step of the way when he was in the field.

Dean had no doubt in his mind that he could take this plastic Hunter easily.

So, even though the ten armed goons, plus old man Stewart, made eleven … Dean completely disregarded old man Stewart as a threat and concentrated on coming up with a plan to defeat the ten armed goons. Once they were taken down, old man Stewart would be a piece of cake!

Dean had faced greater odds than this before and won. Between the three of them – Caelan, Caleb and himself – Dean had no doubt that they could take the Armed Goon Patrol down without anyone firing off a single shot. Now he just had to hope that Caelan and Caleb would back his play.

Dean felt Caelan tense beside him, while Caleb came to stand on Dean's other side, the Hunters beef with each other forgotten as they stood united against the common threat that they now faced.

And Dean knew that both men were ready to take down these Armed Goons as soon as Dean gave them the go ahead to do so.

A glimmer of a smile appeared upon Dean's lips, so damn _proud_ to call these guys his friends … his _family_ ; who were willing to stand beside him and fight for his brother just as hard as he would.

The smile slid from his lips a moment later though once he spied old man Stewart holding his unconscious, vulnerable brother in his arms, a knife poised above his brother's chest, a cruel, sadistic smile upon his face when he realized he had captured Dean's complete attention.

"Really Darryl," old man Stewart clicked his tongue in a mock disapproving way, grabbing a hand full of Sam's hair and roughly yanking his head to the side. "Did you really have to use such violent extreme measures with the boy?"

"Sorry Sir," Darryl immediately responded, sounding anything but sorry. "But, unfortunately the … _boy_ became dangerous. He was resisting … I had to defend myself against his unpredictable behaviour …"

Old man Stewart chortled at Darryl's explanation. "Self defence? Hmm … I like it. And very plausible since this feisty Demon Spawn has been known to cause a few broken noses in the past."

"That's my boy," Dean smiled proudly. "You think Sammy was a force to be reckoned with … just wait until _I_ get out of here and you and I spend some … quality time together. Then you will know what acting in self-defence is all about!" Dean vowed, his penetrating gaze locked steadily upon the old man, promising lots of blood, carnage and mayhem to come.

Unlike most other opponents Dean had come up against, old man Stewart didn't back away or cower from Dean's intimidating glare. Instead, a malicious mischievousness entered his blue eyes, his lips curling into a sly, playful smirk, eyes kept firmly upon Dean, watching his reaction closely as his mouth hovered just inches above the Demon Spawn's exposed neck, inhaling deeply.

"You know, my son told me that your little brother is very responsive to certain … stimulus … " Roger cooed in a suggestive tone, his grip tightening in Sam's hair, forcing his head back even further.

Dean's breath caught in his throat, instant anger surfacing at the rough treatment of his vulnerable younger brother, Sam feeling the pain, even in his unconscious state, uttering a small moan in protest.

"You son of a – " Dean started forward, only to be slammed back into line by one of the Armed Goon Patrol, old man Stewart's delighted laughter echoing around the walls of the lobby.

Dean mentally cursed himself, knowing that he had just given this sadistic fuck the reaction he was looking for. But Dean couldn't control himself when his brother was in trouble or being hurt. The big brother in Dean reacted without thinking, consequences be damned when his Sammy was in trouble.

"I haven't had the pleasure in … _playing_ with the Demon Spawn thus far; but … " Roger used his knife to pop open the top three buttons of Sam's shirt, bitting upon his bottom lip as if he was holding back his desire.

" … I could be persuaded to try a little … experiment or two before I hand him over to The Organisation." Roger's grip upon Sam's hair loosened, Sam's head flopping forward as Roger slipped his hand down the front of Sam's shirt, shaking with deranged gratification at the look of pure fury and rage enter the oldest Winchester sibling's green eyes.

Oh yes, this was going to be _so_ much fun …

 **TBC**


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy.

If there is anything I have left out or you are still unsure about, please feel free to message me. You never know, I may have left it unintentionally unresolved for a reason (possibly a sequel).

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **kandilyn** and **Cheetah Grrl** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Thanks to everyone for their patience and continued interest.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER FORTY-SIX**

John and Bobby crouched down behind the shrubs which decorated the main entrance of the hospital, both Hunters looking through their binoculars, scoping the hospital for possible entry and exits through which they could rescue the boys and escape before the enemy detected them.

Bobby lowered his binoculars, rubbing a hand over his eyes, a long, weary sigh escaping him. "Looks like they've got this place locked up tight Johnny," Bobby grudgingly admitted. "I hate to say this, but it doesn't like as if this is going to be a simple operation of getting in there quick and quiet, taking down a few armed men, while we quietly smuggle the boys out of there."

John grunted in acknowledgement, both irritated and impressed by the enemy's organization skills – almost military – in the way that they had covered and secured this hospital to their advantage.

Bobby was right. It was going to be a lot more difficult than they had thought it would be. But, not only was John Winchester a stubborn son of a bitch, he was also tenacious and perseverant. John hadn't come across _anywhere_ that he hadn't been able to penetrate and infiltrate and he wasn't about to let now be any different. Especially when he knew that his sons' lives were at stake.

"I know it looks bad Bobby. But there's a way to get in there without alerting them to our presence. We just haven't found it yet." John said confidently. "There has to be." He muttered under his breath.

Bobby glanced over at his friend worriedly and nodded before picking up his binoculars once more. "Okay Johnny, I'll keep looking."

"That's the spirit!" John grinned encouragingly, clasping the older man upon the shoulder before returning his attention back toward the main lobby area.

Through the glass doors, John could see the large armed mass of forces that the enemy had amassed in such a short time, covering all exits into and out of the main hospital's lobby.

Panning further into the middle of the lobby, John's breath caught in his throat when he saw Caelan, Dean and Caleb, their expressions hard and Dean with a murderous glint within his green eyes.

After a quick visual examination of the three Hunters, John relaxed slightly when he saw that they appeared to be unharmed and had only received superficial wounds so far. Although John could tell by the colour of Dean's pale complexion that his boy was in some serious pain. And that really didn't surprise John, especially since Dean _had_ been shot. What was surprising was that Dean was on his feet, ready and willing to fight.

A brief half smile of pride flashed upon John's lips, knowing that his oldest could be just as stubborn and tenacious as his old man; especially when his friends or family were involved.

Sammy! Shit! Where the hell was Sammy?

Frantically, John peered through the sea of armed men, desperate to locate his youngest son because Nirkish had told him that Sammy had entered the hospital … so, where the hell was he?

And Nirkish … where was that son of a bitch? He had told John that he would be able to help his boys, but no matter where John looked, he couldn't see that bastard anywhere! That fucking coward! If he'd decided to forsake _his boys_ just because he was scared of his family … John would track him down and make him regret the day he'd ever laid eyes upon John Winchester!

"Bobby, I see the boys – well, Caelan, Dean and Caleb – and they're still in one piece." John informed the older Hunter. "Any luck on finding us a way in there yet?"

"Not yet Johnny," Bobby sighed regretfully. "But these bastards will have to have slipped up somewhere. Don't worry, I'll find us a way in there."

"I know you will Bobby," John replied gratefully. If anyone cared about the boys as much as John did, it was Bobby Singer. John couldn't have picked a better partner to help with rescuing his sons.

"Sonuvabitch!" John growled when he finally located his youngest son, obviously unconscious, held in the arms of … holy crap, it _was_ Roger Stewart! A fucking _Hunter_ whose family was revered as if they were Gods within the hunting community; respected and admired because this legendary family of Hunters had _earned_ the right to be one of the elite members of the hunting community; considering all of the good they had accomplished. And now Roger Stewart was just throwing all of that away … and for what?

Even though Nirkish had told John that Roger was at the hospital and it appeared to be behind _this_ ploy to get to his boys, John hadn't fully believed it. But now … John knew he shouldn't be surprised since Marc had informed him that there were other Hunters involved in _The Organisation_ , but … Roger fucking Stewart? He was honestly the last person John expected to be involved in this mess.

"What?" Bobby asked quietly, worry coating his tone. "What is it John? What's wrong?"

John hadn't told Bobby who Nirkish had accused of being responsible for the attack upon his boys at the hospital. After a split second of indecision, John knew that he had to come clean with the older Hunter about this aspect of _The Organisation_ at least.

"I think I've spotted the asshole behind this fiasco, who plotted to get their hands on my sons." John responded through clenched teeth.

"Who?" Bobby asked, shocked at the amount of hostility he could hear within his friend's voice.

"Roger Stewart," John said grimly, turning to see Bobby's eyes go as wide as saucers at that revelation.

"Roger Stewart … the _Hunter_?" Bobby pressed for clarification, appalled and sickened at the thought that one of the oldest and most elite of the Hunter's families had taken his boys hostage.

"Yep. Roger Stewart, the Hunter," John confirmed, unwilling to think about the consequences this would have later on down the track. All he wanted and was concentrating on was getting his boys back.

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"Get your fucking hands off him!" Dean growled, the amount of intense rage he felt, making him shake, his green eyes narrowing with undiluted fury. "If you don't get your fucking crazy, perverted, old man hands off of my brother … I _will_ make you suffer in the worst possible way!" Dean fumed, his tone filled with all of the hate, bitterness and hostility he could muster, keeping his tone even, low and deadly serious, his eyes never looking away from old man Stewart's, letting him _see_ just how sincere and serious Dean was and that he would do whatever it took to fulfil the declared promise he'd just made.

Roger Stewart snorted with disgust, removing his hand from Sam's bare skin as if he had been scolded. "Lucky for you, young Winchester, I don't swing that way. And even if I did, this … _thing_ would be the last person I would _ever_ want to fornicate with!

Even now, touching this Demon Spawn is making me sick to my stomach!" Roger pushed Sam away from him, a look of horror and revulsion upon his features, taking a step back from Sam's crumbled form as if he thought the very essence of Sam would somehow taint him or infect him with the evil incarnate that he perceived Sam to be.

"The only thing this … _abomination_ is good for is to be experimented upon so that we can learn its weakness, which will help in our upcoming war against _all_ Demon Spawn!" Roger spat upon Sam's face, his features contorted with sickened hatred. "God … I'm going to need to bathe for an entire week to get that stench off of me! Kyle, Darryl, pick up the trash and follow me. The sooner I get it delivered and out of my sight, the better I will feel!"

Dean's temper flared brightly within him and he wanted nothing more than to get his hands upon this pathetic excuse of a man and rip him limb from limb, fuming, seething in a rage he'd never experienced before at the sick game this prestigious Hunter – one that he had once admired and respected – seemed to enjoy playing at Dean's expense, just to elicit a rise out of Dean for his own damn amusement!

Dean grinded his teeth together, barely aware of the low growls that were emanating from him, so deep in his fury and rage that nothing else registered in Dean's sights except getting his hands around old man Stewart's throat and squeezing so hard that Dean could see the fear resonating within the old man's cocky blue eyes.

Insinuating that he was going to _play_ with his younger brother sexually had been bad enough, but when he had started spouting all of that bullshit about how Sam was nothing and his only usefulness was to be locked in a cage and experimented on like some dumb lab rat, increased Dean's brotherly instincts tenfold.

"You're dead! I don't care how vast or powerful this _organisation_ is that you work for, and no matter what it takes or how long it takes … I _will_ find a way to end you. Do you hear me, you son of a bitch?"

"Well, I'd like to see you _try_ young Winchester," Roger smirked in a conceited manner as his two lackeys lifted Sam from the ground. "This has been fun, but, unfortunately, duty calls. I look forward to our next meeting young Winchester.

You six can have some fun with them," Roger grinned with evil intent. "But don't kill them. After all, a deal _is_ a deal." Roger Stewart laughed, pivoting on his heels to lead Kyle and Darryl out, who were carrying the Demon Spawn between them.

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John was more than impressed by how quickly Bobby absorbed the news that they were now up against one of the most powerful and elite families within the hunting community, Bobby coming up with a number of suggestions in which he and John could fight this new enemy.

Bobby Singer was one of a kind if he was still willing to stand beside John and fight for his boys, even knowing who they were up against.

Most other people would have run for the hills by now. But not Bobby. And John wasn't quite sure if Bobby was too damn loyal for his own good, or if he was being _stupid_ by remaining by John's side. Either way, John appreciated the fact that Bobby stayed.

John was about to reply to Bobby's latest suggestion when he felt his phone vibrate rapidly within his front pocket.

Whenever John was on a hunt, it was common practice for him to turn his phone to vibrate, killing the ring tone. There was no point in giving the monsters they hunted an advantage by knowing exactly where John was because of a ringing cell phone. That was just stupid … and dangerous. And it wasn't as if he could turn his phone off for the duration of the hunt. What if he or his boys encountered a problem and needed to contact the other in a hurry?

John slipped his hand into his front pocket, bringing out the vibrating phone, immediately scowling at the name displayed upon the screen. "Where the hell are you?" John growled lowly into the phone, no time for pleasantries or small talk. "You told me you could get my boys out of there!"

"John, you and Bobby need to stand down." Nirkish's commanding voice came over the line. It seemed like he wasn't in the mood for pleasantries either.

"What the hell are you talking about? We're _not_ standing down! That asshole is about to take my son and vanish. We have to storm in there before those armed maniacs' fire upon Caelan, Caleb and Dean."

A loud, long weary sigh was heard.

"Look, if _you_ can't help my boys, just say so. Bobby and I can deal with it."

"You're going to ruin everything!" Nirkish growled impatiently. A few seconds later, Nirkish's voice returned to his near non-existent, emotionless tone, but John could detect the urgency within his voice.

"Listen, I have everything under control John, I promise. But you and Bobby can't be seen here. If they see you, they will hunt you down and kill you for knowing too much."

"Your family's _here_?" John interrupted, his own voice a lot calmer now than it was before, understanding why Nirkish wasn't in there with the boys just yet. "They agreed to help you?"

"They agreed that Roger Stewart has to be stopped." Nirkish expertly redirected, neither confirming nor denying John's claim. "They can't afford a rouge … member to go around and do whatever he wants, creating more dangerous drugs, which would ultimately bring more attention to The Organisation then they would like."

"Okay." John let out a breath. "So, what's the plan?"

"All _you_ need to worry about is getting you and Bobby to the back of the hospital where the Impala is parked. I'm sure your sons will need a friendly face once this is all over with."

John hesitated, not used to just waiting around on the side-lines. He was a man of action. "Are you sure you don't need our help? What if it doesn't go to plan on your end? What if –"

"It will be fine John." Nirkish replied soothingly. "I'm just waiting for some reinforcements and then I'm going in there to confront Roger Stewart myself. And as he has removed most of his armed guards … I honestly don't think I'll have any problem in taking him down … taking them all down, if I have to."

"No, I guess you won't." John admitted after a pause.

"Trust me John; you will be better served being there for your sons when they emerge from the hospital. They will need their _father_ in order for them to heal from this."

John closed his eyes, still hesitating because he had become more of a fighter over the years than a father. He honestly didn't know if he _could_ be their father or _how_ to be a father anymore. This was almost as daunting as when he had first decided to track down the yellow-eyed son of a bitch and kill him for murder his wife all of those years ago.

"Take the time with your boys John," Nirkish urged gently as if he could sense John's indecision and doubt. Because it won't be too long until I am forced to make you honour our agreement. And then you won't have any time to scratch an itch, let alone spend quality time with your sons."

"Okay," John whispered, hating to admit that Nirkish was right, but willing to swallow down his own stubborn ego for the sake of his boys. "How much time do we have to get to the Impala?"

A slight pause. "Twenty minutes maximum, ten minutes minimum. Please don't be late for your sons John."

"I'll be there," John promised, hanging up the phone, a look of determination and stubbornness crossing his features before he turned to smirk playfully at the Hunter beside him.

"What do you say Bobby? Think we can slip round the back of the hospital without being detected in under ten minutes?"

If Bobby was surprised by John's question, he hid it well, a mischievous smile lightening up his rugged features. "Ten minutes?! Come on Johnny, we can get this done in five!"

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Dean cried out in frustration, watching as old man Stewart departed with his injured little brother and despite the odds, Dean was getting into an attack stance, not caring if he took a bullet or two, only wanting to kill old man Stewart and save his baby brother … when the guy who'd been with Sam earlier tonight outside the hospital doors, the man he'd thought had fled, abandoning them to their fate, stepped in to block old man Stewart's escape.

"Y – you!" Roger gasped, his face paling, a look of apprehensive fear within his eyes. "But … what are _you_ doing here?"

Nirkish shook his head, his eyes flickering from Sam to the three Hunters behind Sam before settling his gaze upon Roger Stewart once more. "I am disappointed with the actions you have taken today Roger … without The Organisation's approval, I might add."

"But … they were going to revoke my membership …" Roger spluttered indignantly. "Me! All I've ever done is support The Organisation's ventures financially, obeying _every_ order that was given to me until _Marc_ decided to deceive me, spilling forth his _lies_ , setting up _my son_ in matters that were beyond his control. I was hoping to offer The Organisation a peace offering by delivering the Demon Spawn to them, to explain my side of the story – "

Nirkish held out his hand to cut off Roger's whinny babbling. "The Organisation is _aware_ of Marc Ley-Lamp's misconduct and his betrayal. They are also aware of the illegal experiments you have performed without their approval, causing harm to not only _Organisation_ members but your own kin as well."

Nirkish paused briefly to give Roger a pointed look. "The Organisation might have been willing to listen to your side of things but after this …" Nirkish shook his head, his deep blue eyes icy cold, devoid of any emotion. "You are hereby _ordered_ to cease _all_ activities. Your association with The Organisation is terminated and you will be taken in for questioning by the Divine Elders themselves. You, and all who have plotted in these despicable actions today."

Nirkish moved forward, his eyes flashing with disgust, disappointment and unbridled fury. " _We_ had Sam Winchester under control." He lowered his voice so that only Roger Stewart could hear his words.

"Now, because of your _stupidity_ , certain _people_ are aware of our activities. People that we didn't want as enemies, people that will use up a lot of man power and resources that we can't afford to expel right now. Your actions today have caused a ripple effect that will take _years_ to recover from."

"I'm sorry," Roger Stewart spluttered, his eyes wide with fear. "If you just give me another chance –"

"There are no more chances Roger!" Nirkish thundered, his voice still low enough that it wouldn't carry to the Hunters beyond. "Because of your single-minded obsession with protecting your precious reputation and name, you have sentenced your only daughter to _death_."

Roger gasped, shaking his head in denial. "You won't kill her!" He spat out in a sudden burst of defiance. "Not you. Because, just like me, _you're expendable_!"

"That's true. My … brethren _do_ consider me expendable and I don't have to kill Elizabeth because you have done that yourself. The unrestricted, untested drug that you used to … _recondition_ her is burning through her. Within twenty-four hours her body will begin to shut down, and not even _I_ can stop that from happening.

You _knew_ the risks using that drug would present, but you decided to use it on your own daughter, disregarding the effects because it was fast acting and did what _months_ of _reconditioning_ can do in a matter of hours."

Roger Stewart swallowed hard, his trembling body straightening up, refusing to let this man's threats get to him any longer. "You won't get rid of me!" he sneered confidentially. "You _need_ me to provide The Organisation with new drugs in order to help them _recondition_ the more … _stubborn_ people."

Nirkish stepped back from Roger Stewart, not surprised that this man wasn't showing one ounce of remorse or regret for condemning his only daughter to death for a foolish crusade he was never going to be able to succeed in. This man's only thought was about his own selfish desires and skin.

"While it is true that your … skills have been useful to The Organisation in the past, we have since secured someone else who matches your skill and intelligence."

"Who?" Roger blinked in surprise.

"Your son, Peter Stewart." Nirkish smirked in amusement. "He has agreed to take over your position within The Organisation in order to spare the life of both his boyfriend and himself." Nirkish paused, letting that sink in before he leaned in close to whisper. "Like father, like son. I guess you _did_ teach him well Roger."

Nirkish stood up, motioning with his hand. "Take these men into custody immediately and return them to the Divine Elders for questioning. I will take care of the Hunters myself."

 **TBC**


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy.

If there is anything I have left out or you are still unsure about, please feel free to message me. You never know, I may have left it unintentionally unresolved for a reason (possibly a sequel).

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Kas3y, Souless666, Pie Love Luci** and **Cheetah Grrl** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Thanks to everyone for their patience and continued interest.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN**

Dean watched in fascination as with a wave of his hand, Nirkish's men swept through the lobby, gathering up all of the Armed Goon Patrol and leaving it empty except for the five of them.

Dean shared a worried look with both Caelan and Caleb. If this Nirkish guy could dissolve the Armed Goon Patrol with just a wave of his hand, it begged the question to be asked … what else could this guy do.

Dean suddenly felt very vulnerable and wary of this guy as he approached the three Hunters slowly, a brief smile of reassurance crossed his features, dissipating the wild, stormy aggravated look that had adorned his features while having his personal show down with old man Stewart.

"It's okay now, you're safe," Nirkish told them in what Dean suspected was supposed to be a soothing tone, but sounded more like an inanimate robot.

Nirkish paused in his advance toward the Hunters, noticing all three of their postures were tense, unsure of his true intentions and whether they were really as safe as he claimed they were. He looked at each of them in turn, his eyes automatically calculating and cataloguing every injury the three Hunters in front of him had obtained at the hands of the wayward and rouge member of The Organisation, Roger Stewart.

Satisfied that none of their injuries appeared to be life threatening, Nirkish was about to suggest that the Hunters get somewhere safe and recuperate, when something within Caelan Hagen's demeanour made him reassess the young man's vitals once more.

"Your emotional temperament does not seem to be in balance Caelan," he said at last, his head tilting to the side in a confuesed manner. "Why is that?"

"That's because old man Stewart decided to dose Caelan with a drug which causes aggressive anger!" Dean spat out bitterly, sick and tired of being yanked around by this _organisation_ all day. Everything they had done to try and escape their clutches, this mysterious _organisation_ had just reeled them back in, causing not only physical injuries but emotional scars too, which would take a hell of a lot longer to heal and work through than the physical injuries would.

These guys had a lot to answer for. Dean's anger needed to be directed at someone, and because the masterminds of this _organisation_ weren't here to vent his frustrations upon, Dean couldn't help but get angry at the closest person available. And since he didn't know this Nirkish guy and whether he was connected to _the organisation_ or not, but Dean figured he would do.

"What is it with you _people_ thinking that you can just screw around with my _brothers_?" Dean demanded, his hands balled tightly into fists, nostrils beginning to flare as he glared up at this Nirkish guy, anger now taking over his common sense and fear.

"Dude, it's all good," Caelan said in a low voice, hoping to calm his friend down; because he had seen firsthand what Nirkish was capable of when he got pushed. And there was no way in hell he wanted Dean to go through something like that … and definitely not if it was because of him.

"No, it's _not_ all good!" Dean hissed vehemently. "Nothing about what's happened today is _all good_! These guys have been screwing around with us for years … and I want to know why."

Dean turned his murderous gaze upon Nirkish. "Well?" Dean promoted, when Nirkish stayed silent, a look of amusement within his eyes. "What possible reason can you give me that would explain _why_ my brothers have been targeted by you guys?"

This was the first time Nirkish had met Dean Winchester. He had heard of his legendary fierce loyalty and protection of the people he loved and how he never backed down from anyone if his family was threatened or in trouble. Now, having experienced it himself, he could see why so many people were intimidated by this young man, and Nirkish admired this young man's fearlessness.

But now was not the time to get into this. He had to clean up here before his brethren arrived, and if they found Sam Winchester still within this vicinity, they would take him. And there wasn't a damn thing any of them could do to stop it. So he had to get all of the Hunters out of here before they arrived, and if Caelan wasn't helped soon … he would also perish from the use of the highly controversial drug Roger Stewart had given him.

Time was something they were all running out of, so Nirkish had to hurry this along ASAP. Dean Winchester thought _he_ was good at intimidation tactics … he was about to learn that Nirkish had perfected and mastered these techniques and tactics long before Dean was even conceived.

The playful twinkle left Nirkish's eyes as he stood up straighter, catching Dean's gaze and holding it within his own, his expression cold and emotionless as he started toward the young Hunter.

Dean swallowed nervously as Nirkish's gaze penetrated straight through him, beginning to think he had made a grievous error in trying to attack this man without knowing exactly what he was capable of.

Dean's instincts screamed at him to take a step back from this guy and the threat that Dean was beginning to perceive him to be, Nirkish looking at Dean as if he was nothing more than a bug to be squashed underfoot, but Dean held his ground, lifting his eyes to stare at this man defiantly. He may be regretting his rash behaviour and becoming more anxious than angry, but there was no way in hell he'd ever let this guy see that. He was a Winchester … and they didn't bow down to no one!

"Wait Nirkish … _please_ ," Caelan automatically stepped closer to Dean, as if he could somehow _shield_ his friend and take on the wrath he could see brewing within Nirkish's blue eyes. "Dean didn't mean any disrespect. He doesn't _know_ any better. Please, let me –"

Nirkish turned to glare hard at Caelan, effectively silencing Caelan's plea on Dean's behalf. "Ignorance is no excuse for being disrespectful." He told Caelan, his tone sending icy chills through all three Hunters before he turned that penetrating gaze back upon Dean Winchester, eyes sweeping up and down Dean's body, sizing the young Hunter up while also stalling for time, making Dean squirm before him with uncomfortable suspense – which was another intimidation tactic Nirkish had used over the years – growing worry within Dean's defiant green eyes.

Nirkish's half-smirk warped the man's features into vicious malice, causing Dean to silently tremble within the man's presence. Whatever was coming next, Dean knew it wouldn't be good.

"Do you honestly think that standing here and insulting someone who has just _saved_ your ass is a good idea Dean?" Nirkish's voice was cold and deadly.

Dean swallowed convulsively, having lost the ability to speak, because of this man's overwhelming presence and aurora, too scared to become annoyed at himself … but later, he would be berating himself servery for this lack of control and weakness.

"Don't you think your time would be spent more wisely helping your injured sibling out of here before he is taken again?"

Wordlessly, Dean nodded, dumbstruck, knowing that should have been his first priority, but his frustration and anger had over-ruled his big brother instincts, wanting to get answers instead. Now, he wanted nothing more than to go to his fallen brother, see what damage he was in and get as far away from this hell-hole as he could.

Nirkish held Dean's gaze for several long seconds before he smiled and the darkness that had clutched at Dean's heart began to ease. "Good." Nirkish nodded; satisfied that Dean had gotten the message. "Your father and his friend are waiting for both of you outside the hospital, if you wish to join them. They will escort the two of you to the nearest medical facility where you will be given the medical attention that you may require. Caelan, Caleb and I can finish up here."

An array of emotions passed over Dean's face, shooting a glance toward Caelan and Caleb to make sure that they were on board with this plan … or more importantly, if they were okay with being left alone with this Nirkish guy for company.

Once Dean had been given a confirming look that the two Hunters would be okay, Dean nodded in grim determination, offering Caelan and Caleb a quick nod of thanks and a look promising to meet up later, Dean practically ran to his younger brother's fallen side, hoping like hell he hadn't just abandoned his friends – his _family_ – to a very powerful and scary as hell mad man, his concern and priority once more focused firmly upon his younger brother. Dean was determined that this time, he would _not_ fail his Sammy!

 **DW CH DW SW DW CH DW SW DW CH DW SW DW**

Shaking himself out of his stunned stupor, Dean knelt beside his brother. "Sammy?" Dean's eyes scanned Sam's body for any life threatening injuries, hands automatically cupping his brother's face.

"Sammy, can you hear me?" Dean lightly tapped Sam's check with his fingers, anxious and desperate to see any signs of life from his little brother. "Come on buddy, you have to work with me here. I can't lift your lanky, heavy unconscious ass out of here as well as getting myself out as well.

Come on dude, just open your eyes for me, give me a sign you're still alive in there." Dean pleaded, running fingers through his brother's unruly dark hair in an effort not only to provide comfort for Sam but also to calm his out of control panic and fear that maybe Sammy wouldn't be waking up this time.

As if Sam could sense his brother's despairing mood, he groaned weakly, his eyes fluttering open and closed a few times before he finally managed to open them and looked into anxious green familiar eyes that he would know anywhere. "Dee …" Sam murmured, his voice husky and dry from lack of use. "Am I … am I dead?"

"No little brother," Dean chuckled, which was too close to sounding like a sob of relief for Dean's comfort. "You are definitely _not_ dead."

"Wh – what's goin' on?" Sam asked, concentrating on forming the words correctly, noticing the anxious look within Dean's eyes fading slightly.

"We're getting out of here." Dean replied, quickly but gently helping to ease his brother into a sitting position and holding him there for several seconds until Sam's sense of balance returned. The last thing they needed was for Sam to get to his feet too quickly and have him face plant onto the floor, cracking his skull open in the process.

"I'm going to help you out of here. Then we'll meet up with Dad and Bobby round the back of the hospital and then the two of us are getting as far away from this place as humanly possible." Dean explained in a low, soothing tone, seeing the unasked questions flash within his brother's eyes at the mention of their Dad and Bobby.

"I'll explain everything once we're out of here." Dean assured his sibling, staring straight into confused, glassy hazel eyes. "You trust me, don't you little brother?"

"Always," Sam answered immediately, without the slightest hesitation or doubt.

"Then trust me when I say that the sooner we get out of here, the better I will feel." Dean's trademark smirk graced his lips in an effort to relieve the sudden seriousness of the situation. "Come on Sasquatch, let's get you to your feet, okay?"

Sam nodded and braced himself, trying to take most of his weight so that the two of them didn't topple over, but Dean was used to hauling a semi-conscious, towering little brother to his feet and had already spread his legs wide, taking the full brunt of both Sam's and his own weight as he pulled Sam to his feet.

"You good little brother?" Dean asked, his hold tightening about his brother as Sam swayed dangerously from side to side, a shakiness to his legs.

Sam gritted his teeth together and willed his dizziness away as he clung to his big brother as if his life depended upon it, before he nodded slightly to indicate that he was ready to move once the worst of the vertigo and passed.

"Okay, let's blow this freaky ass hospital." Dean offered his brother a light grin before tightening his hold once more, supporting Sam as the two Winchester siblings slowly made their way to the now clear exit.

"C – Caelan … Caleb …" Sam gasped, trying to twist his body around to make sure their friends were okay.

Dean halted Sam's movements with a slight shake of his head. "They're fine Sammy," Dean replied, keeping his tone light and even. "They're just going to help that Nirkish dude tie up some loose ends and then they'll join us later."

"Nirkish?" Sam frowned at the unfamiliar name. "Who …?"

"That freaky dude who brought you to the hospital earlier." Dean said, raising his eyebrows slightly. "Do you mean to tell me that you didn't catch the name of the man who rescued you from those SOBS that took you from the hospital?

Sammy, what have I _told_ you about getting into cars with people you don't know? Do you not remember _anything_ of what I taught you?" Dean sighed in exasperation, eyes twinkling teasingly to let Sam know that he wasn't as serious as he pretended to be.

"Shut up." Sam pouted. "I was kind of out of it while all of that was happening." Sam defended himself weakly, a slight blush coming to his checks as he remembered the epic panic attack he'd had while in the presence of his rescuer.

So, he wasn't Familiar Stranger after all – not that Sam had thought that was his actual name! – and now that Sam thought about it, he had a vague recollection of the man mentioning his name not long after rescuing Sam from the non-human brothers who had taken him from the hospital.

Well, Sam _had_ been a little … preoccupied at time – having strange dreams that was him, but wasn't him at the same time; shock from being kidnapped for the second time that day, not to mention the aches and pains of his numerous wounds and fear of whether his brother was alive or dead after having been shot – it was no wonder Sam's brain was a little scrambled at the moment.

Dean chuckled, ruffling his brother's hair affectionately. "Yeah, okay, I'll give you that one little brother. But you and I will have to take about these … _dreams_ you're having … and maybe I should reteach you the lessons on how to get away from would be kidnappers." Dean grinned at Sam's shocked look. "You still talk way too much when you're sick or hurt little brother. And yes, you just said all of that out loud."

Sam groaned loudly, slapping a hand against his forehead in frustration and annoyance. Damn his big mouth when he wasn't feeling one hundred percent. He wasn't even sure if he wanted Dean to even _know_ about those dreams or not … now it looked like he didn't have a choice but to explain them to his brother, because Sam knew that Dean wouldn't let up on an issue if it concerned Sam, especially if it would cause Sam pain.

"Don't worry about Caelan and Caleb Sammy," Dean told his brother after sharing a knowing look with Caelan over his shoulder. "They know how to take care of themselves and if that Nirkish dude really meant us any harm, he would have killed us all ready and not helped us out."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Sam huffed out, nodding in agreement to Dean's assessment.

Dean's gaze softened, noticing that his younger brother was on the verge of crashing. "Come on Sammy, let's meet up with Dad and get you the hell out of this place. I'll feel a hell of a lot better once we put some distance between this hospital and this damn stupid _organisation_!"

 **DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW**

Caelan breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his _brothers_ exit the hospital. Finally, after hours of tracking Sam down, the younger Winchester was safe from this secret _organisation_ … at least, for the time being.

Caelan couldn't help but grimace, the drug within him causing his anger and negative feelings to surge within him once more. He gritted his teeth together; hands clenched into fists, eyes squeezed shut, trying to ride out this wave of emotions.

"You okay Hags?" Caleb asked in a low, worried voice.

"Nope." Caelan replied through clenched teeth. "Just give me a few minutes," Caelan advised, warning his friend to stay back until the surging emotions began to lesson or diminish.

"Here, let me help you Caelan," Without asked for permission, and before either Caelan or Caleb could object or react to his sudden move, Nirkish placed two fingers upon Caelan's forehead, a white light flowing from his fingers briefly before he removed his fingers and stepped back. "Do you feel better now Caelan?" he asked curiously.

Caelan blinked, swallowing back his shout of protest, surprised that he was still alive after having been _touched_ by the great, all powerful, dreaded Nirkish, but also a sense of wonder and astonishment filling him as he realized that he _did_ feel better. The sense of _wrongness_ and _not him_ was completely gone and he was himself once more.

"Yeah, I do. Thanks." Caelan said gratefully.

"It was no problem Caelan," Nirkish waved away Caelan's gratitude with a wave of his hand. "You are lucky that I was able to get to you in time and that I was able to heal the adverse side effects of the drug Roger coerced his daughter into giving you otherwise you would have perished by morning."

Nirkish turned away from the two Hunters, looking toward the corridors of the hospital, unaware of the stunned look of horror that crossed Caelan's face as Nirkish thought about all he had to do in the short amount of time that he had.

"Right," Nirkish shook his thoughts back into an organized manner as he swivelled his head back to look at the two Hunters. "Caelan, Caleb, I'm sorry, but I require your assistance for just a little bit longer before you join up with the Winchesters, if that's okay?"

Caelan shared a bewildered look with Caleb before nodding his approval. Besides, after what they'd seen – Nirkish's power to willingly subdue the hot headed Dean Winchester; plus the healing abilities that he had performed upon Caelan mere moments ago – they'd be suicidal idiots not to agree to _anything_ that Nirkish needed them for.

"Uh, yeah, that's fine. But … what did you mean when you said I could have _perished_? You don't mean I would have _died_ … do you?"

Nirkish shook his head, amused by the younger man's antics, thankful that this altercation with The Organisation had left Caelan, Caleb and the Winchesters still alive and basically in one piece. Things could have been a lot worse if the Divine Elders had decided to get involved instead of just individuals from The Organisation's ranks, trying to wield a power they had no clue on how to use.

All of the Hunters involved in today's misadventures had dodged a bullet, dealing with only a _fraction_ of what The Organisation's power could unleash.

"So, if you don't mind me asking … what exactly do you need _us_ to do Sir?" Caleb politely inquired, gently pulling Nirkish from his inner thoughts.

Nirkish paused with his advance into the hospital, noticing the curious, apprehensive looks upon both Hunters faces before he smiled tightly. "I will round up all of The Organisation members within the hospital who conspired with Roger Stewart on this useless endeavour. I don't actually require either of your assistance in achieving this."

"Then what –?"

Nirkish held out his hand in order to stop the questions that he could see forming upon both sets of Hunters eyes. He eyed both Caelan and Caleb carefully and couldn't help but look at Caelan sympathetically. "I'm sorry Caelan, there's no easy way to say this and because of your personal relationship … I thought you should have someone supporting you through this … difficult time."

Caelan frowned, an icy chill racing through his body at Nirkish's words. "What are you talking about?"

Nirkish let out a low sigh of remorse. "Just as the drug that was used upon you had side effects that would have resulted in your death had I not been able to intervene, so does the drug that Roger Stewart dosed his daughter with in order to be able to control her."

Caelan's breath caught in his throat. "What does that mean?"

"The drug is burning through Elizabeth's body … within twenty-four hours her body will begin to shut down. She will slip into a coma, suffering an agonizing death as her organs shut down one by one before she will eventually die." Nirkish told the young Hunter as gently as he could, seeing the disbelief and anguish enter the Hunter's dark eyes.

Although Elizabeth had betrayed him, betrayed his family, Nirkish could see the great love this man still felt for her. Learning that Roger had … _reconditioned_ Elizabeth to do his bidding, Nirkish could see that Caelan had already forgiven the woman for her unforgivable actions, knowing that she'd had no control over what had occurred.

"B – but … can't you heal her? Like you healed me?" Caelan pleaded, not willing to give up or give into despair until all avenues available to him had been explored.

Nirkish shook his head. "I'm sorry Caelan, not even my healing expertise will be able to help her now. The drug has already caused irreparable damage and if I try to mess around with that … I fear I may cause more harm." Nirkish explained apologetically.

"What harm can you do?" Caelan retorted, desperation clearly revealed upon his features now. "If she's already dying … what's the worst you could do?"

"A lot actually," Nirkish said, a haunted look crossing his features, his tone low, sad and regretful. "I'm sorry Caelan, but I can not heal her."

Caelan's expression hardened. "Where is she?" he demanded, almost hostility. If Nirkish wasn't going to help him, then Caelan would just have to find someone who could.

"She is being detained in the hospital room Sam Winchester used while he was here."

No sooner were the words out of Nirkish's mouth, Caelan was practically running down the hospital corridors in his haste to get to Elizabeth before it was too late.

"Caleb," Nirkish stopped the other Hunter before he could move to follow his in shock, grief-stricken friend. "Take care of him."

Caleb nodded before he spun around and took off after his friend.

Nirkish watched the two Hunters leave, wishing he could have prevented these men from going through everything they'd endured today or from finding out about The Organisation and all of the secrets that had been revealed today, but he knew that this meeting between them was inevitable.

These men – _Hunters_ – would be crucial in future fights to come, but Nirkish had decided not to reveal that fact today. After everything they had been through, Nirkish didn't wish to burden them with more bad news.

For now, he would get all of them away from this place as fast as possible, mop up the mess both Roger Stewart and Marc Ley-Lamp had left behind and hopefully bide these young Hunters some time before The Organisation decided to get serious and come at them with everything they had.

Nirkish pushed that thought to the back of his mind. Today they had succeeded with a win. And although he knew that the relationship between the four Hunters – Caelan, Caleb, Dean and Sam – had been bent and almost broken, and it was going to take a lot of hard work, Nirkish knew that eventually the four Hunters bond would heal and be stronger than ever, making them prepared to face whatever danger that may ahead in the future.

 **TBC**

 _ **Aten:**_ _I was going to end it here, but then I figured needed one more chapter in order to get the boys back together and on the right page again._

 _So, one more chapter to go guys … with maybe a sequel on the way – when I say maybe, I already have ideas for a sequel anyway because I haven't forgotten about Sicko or Marc Ley-Lamp, and I am sure you are still curious about this Organisation and the mysterious Divine Elders._

 _So, stay tuned for that. Anyway, like I said, one more chapter to go after this one._


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy.

If there is anything I have left out or you are still unsure about, please feel free to message me. You never know, I may have left it unintentionally unresolved for a reason (possibly a sequel).

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Kas3y,** and **Guest** for your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Thanks to everyone for their patience and continued interest.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT**

 **Two Weeks Later**

Caelan Hagen was not ready to return to the land of consciousness yet. His head thumped painfully in rhythm with his heartbeat, causing a rippling effect to go through his body, a loud groan escaping him, knowing that the pain he was experiencing had nothing to do with a hunt … it was self-inflicted, a hangover like nothing he'd ever experienced before.

But that's what he had wanted … to escape and drown the raging hurt and guilt that he felt because of the gut-wrenching, heart breaking two weeks he had just endured.

The love of his life was dead. Spending the last week of her life in excruciating agony because of an experimental drug her father had given her in order for her to obey his every command without question, becoming a mindless zombie, a pawn in her father's sick and twisted game that he had played all so he could get his hands on – who _he_ would call _The Demon Spawn_ – Sam Winchester.

His plan had ultimately failed, thanks to a small group of Hunters who had rallied around in support of the youngest Winchester to prevent this man and the horrendous _secret organisation_ that he worked for in getting their hands upon the youngest Winchester once more.

Caelan let out another groan, the loud ringing and vibrating of his phone piercing shrilly through his head like a jack-hammer that wanted to break through his skull.

He vaguely hoped that the person who was calling him at such an ungodly hour would get the message and leave him alone. Caelan was in no mood or fit state to talk to anyone right now … not after the part he had played in Senior Stewart's scheme to reacquire Sam Winchester.

That thought, even two weeks later, filled Caelan with remorse and regret, hating the fact that Senior Stewart's drug had affected Caelan to such a degree that he had become violent with the youngest Winchester – the boy whom he thought of as a _brother_ – believing Sam to be responsible for his father's brutal murder eleven years earlier.

Although Sam had instantly forgiven Caelan for his violent outburst, knowing that it wasn't the _real_ Caelan that had hurt him. Caelan was having a hard time forgiving himself. He'd thought nothing and no one could come between the bond that he shared with the Winchester siblings … but, he'd been wrong.

Caelan breathed a sigh of relief when his phone finally stopped ringing and vibrating. Now he could drift back off into the land of sleep where he didn't feel guilt, remorse or grief; where his emotions were naturally numbed and dulled without having to resort to alcohol as an escape mechanism; where …

"God damn it!" Caelan shouted, almost on the verge of sleep before his phone started to ring and vibrate once more. He immediately rolled away from his phone, throwing one of his pillows over his head in an attempt to muffle the infuriating noise his phone was making.

Was it really too much to ask that people left him the hell alone?!

Honestly, you'd think the person would have gotten it through their thick skulls that Caelan didn't want to talk to them after the first time he'd let it ring without answering. Maybe Caelan should leave a blunt, straight to the point message on his answering service, telling people to fuck off and leave him alone as he was no longer available to talk to anyone!

Caelan knew that it could be only three people who would be calling him so instantly – Caleb, Dean or Sam – and he really didn't want to talk to _any_ of them right now.

The grief and shame he felt at how he had treated all three of his friends during that terrible time two weeks ago made Caelan almost afraid to reconnect with them.

Although he had started to mend the relationship with all three of the other Hunters, Caelan knew he still had a long way to go before he completely repaired the damage he had done. And once Elizabeth had … died … Caelan had taken off, not wanting to be near anyone, not wanting to be comforted or treated like some fragile _girl_ that they thought would shatter and break into a million pieces, not wanting to deal with the uncomfortable silences as his friends tried to piece him back together, offering words of unity and works like; 'she's in a better place now'.

It was all crap!

All lies that we told ourselves to get through the hard times. But Caelan could see it clearly now. And it was all bullshit! None of them had any _clue_ how he was feeling or what he was going through.

It wasn't only the death of the woman that he'd always loved that had forced Caelan to run instead of staying and accepting his brothers comfort and support, but also learning the truth about his beloved father's murder.

It was such a God damned waste!

His father had been killed because he had walked in on something and saw things he shouldn't have seen and because he had become too much of a threat to this _secret organisation_ and had to be eliminated.

And Elizabeth … she'd only been doing Caelan a favour, helping out the Winchester siblings, only to be used by her own father, killed by an experimental drug that her father had manufactured in order to control her, all so they could get their hands on Sam Winchester and return him to this _organisation_ in order to torture him, experiment on him … _recondition_ him for God only knew what purpose.

Caelan's hands clenched tightly into fists, his teeth gritted together, the rage, unfairness and bitterness of it all tearing at his very soul.

It could be so _easy_ for Caelan to pin all of this on Sam Winchester – because at the end of the day, that was why both his Dad and Elizabeth had _died_ – to blame him, to curse him, to give into the bitterness and desire for vengeance and take it out on the youngest Winchester.

But … Caelan _knew_ Sam, had watched him grow, had protected and loved him like a brother and … no matter how hard he tried; he couldn't blame that kid for any of this. Sam didn't have a mean bone in his body, and because Caelan knew that kid so well, he _knew_ that Sam would blame himself for all that had happened, would blame himself for anyone having gotten hurt because of him. Hell, that damn fool kid would probably blame himself for this _organisation_ having tortured him for all of these years!

People thought that Dean Winchester was the king of guilt and blaming himself for things that were out of his control, but his younger brother was just as good at doing that … if not better.

And Caelan also knew that his Dad – Connor Hagen – had loved John Winchester like a brother, had loved Dean and Sam like the nephews he'd never had … he wouldn't want Caelan to blame Sammy for his Dad's death because Caelan knew that his Dad would _never_ put that blame on a ten-year old kid's shoulders – even if Sam _had_ been responsible for Connor's death – because Connor would have understood that the real blame for his untimely death was because of this _organisation_ and the Hunters within it who were willing to kill to keep their secrets.

If his Dad wouldn't have blamed Sam, then how could he? The blame lay with Roger Stewart and this secret _organisation_ that the ex-Hunter had belonged to. Nirkish had taken Roger Stewart away to be questioned by the Divine Elders – whoever the hell they were – and by the way the fear had entered Senior Stewart's eyes at that knowledge, that wasn't exactly a _good_ thing.

Roger Stewart, the person who was linked directly to both his Dad's and Elizabeth's deaths, was effectively taken care of and Caelan _knew_ that planning ways to get even with that son of a bitch would be a wasted effort, but Caelan couldn't help the thirst for vengeance that coursed through his veins. Someone had to pay for what had happened to Elizabeth, Caelan _needed_ to avenge the love of his life if he was to have any chance of moving forward from this, and if Caelan couldn't get to Roger Stewart, then he would just have to destroy this secret _organisation_ instead.

Caelan had sent Caleb off by threatening to shoot him right after Elizabeth had died, ignoring all calls that the Winchesters had placed to try and talk him into coming back, wallowing in his grief, guilt and shame, spending endless days binging on alcohol to try and dull his emotions.

Even now, after some things had become clearer to him after his week of solitude, Caelan still wasn't quite ready to join, to reconnect with his brothers and formulate a plan on how they could take this _organisation_ down, because if this _organisation_ could corrupt and get to one of the most elite and legendary families of the hunting community, then they could get to anyone, and that made them too dangerous to ignore.

Caelan just wanted to feel nothing for a while, to pretend that his life wasn't falling to pieces. He just wanted to fucking sleep and forget everything that had happened.

Finally! Caelan's phone had stopped ringing. Hopefully now Caelan could get back to sleep. He removed the pillow from his head, his body uncurling and relaxing, the sound of his phone no longer piercing his skull. No noise, complete darkness, now all Caelan needed to do was just drift off and …

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!" Caelan groaned loudly as his phone started up for the third time. Obviously this person wasn't going to give up until Caelan answered his phone.

With a huff of annoyance, Caelan opened his eyes, causing his stomach to roll, the room spinning around him as he gazed with burry eyes at the alarm clock beside his phone.

2am?! What the fuck?!

Caelan groaned again, swallowing back the bile that threatened to rise, blindly grabbing his phone as he closed his eyes to stop the room from spinning.

"What?!" Caelan growled into the phone. "This better be damn important to fucking wake me up at two in the morning!"

"C – Caelan?"

Caelan's eyes popped open at the soft, scared, hesitant voice on the other end, his heart beating wildly in his chest, this phone call eerily reminiscent of the one he had received two weeks ago, which had propelled him into having one of the worst days of his life.

 **CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH**

Dean Winchester couldn't believe that his own baby brother had kicked him out of their motel room.

Him!

After everything that Dean had done for the kid for the past two weeks and this was how Sam showed his gratitude!

Dean was flabbergasted, annoyed, irritated, amused and slightly … relieved actually, if he was being completely honest with himself.

The last two weeks had not been easy on either Winchester sibling, but for Sam especially. The first few nights away from the hospital and the _organisation_ was hard on both of them; Sam refusing to sleep because of his nightmares; Dean not being able to sleep because he feared his brother wouldn't be there when he woke up.

Once the two siblings had finally given into their exhaustion and fell into reluctant, restless slumbers, Dean was always awoken by his brother's horrendous screams, fearing that he was still trapped within that dreaded box. It would take Dean _hours_ to calm the kid down and for Sam to believe that he was safe and not trapped in the box.

After the third night of this happening, Dean finally managed to convince Sam that it was okay if he needed to sleep with a light on. After everything the poor kid had been through, Dean was not going to tease his brother about needing a bit of light to reassure himself that he was safe.

Sam had been ashamed and horrified by the suggestion. He wasn't a damn kid anymore! He didn't need the light on like some child who was afraid of the dark!

So, they had reached a compromise. The bathroom light would stay on instead of one of the man lamps. Dean knew that the only reason Sam had refused to have a light on so adamantly was because the old man was still hovering around them and Sam didn't want to appear any more weak, a liability, in their father's eyes than he already was.

Which was utter bull crap as far as Dean was concerned, because his baby brother was not _weak_! And not once had Dean ever considered Sam to be a liability! But, trying to convince his brother of that was like talking sense to a bloody brick wall.

And at this stage of Sam's healing, he needed comfort, reassurance and support. Knocking some sense into Sam's skull about his askew view of himself would have to come later, once his brother stopped jumping at the slightest, unexpected noises.

If John disapproved of the bathroom light staying on, he didn't say anything. In fact, John Winchester had been damn right scary that first week after they had escaped the hospital. He hadn't once bitched at them for the stupid mistakes they had taken, badgered them about training or drilled them about the possible danger they had not only put themselves in but others as well.

Instead, John had hovered, a worried, scared look upon his features most times as he silently helped his sons to rest and recuperate from their ordeal; a soft, loving smile of pride on his lips.

And Dean was so shocked by his father's complete change in attitude that he'd almost convinced himself that his Dad must be possessed … or maybe he was having a hard time letting go of the fact that he'd had to kill a _Hunter_ , a man he had once admired and considered a friend before learning that this man had betrayed John in the worst possible way by _punishing_ and _torturing_ his young son because he _thought_ that Sammy was a Demon Spawn.

But it hadn't been long after the first week that John's soft loving looks changed into looks of disapproval, his features growing hard, shaking his head with disappointment every time that Sam latched onto Dean, clinging to him in such a way as he hadn't done since Sam had been a young child.

Dean hadn't been able to leave the room for more than a few seconds before he could hear Sam calling out to him, panic and fear within his tone, not even their Dad being able to sooth Sam's near hysteria.

No, Sam hadn't been able to fully calm down until he could see Dean again, and then the kid would burst into uncontrollable sobs, so ashamed by his behaviour, acting like a scared, frightened five-year old instead of the twenty one-year old man he was.

Dean had assured his brother that it was okay, that Sam would get over this. And Dean honestly didn't mind his brother's near obsessive clinginess, because this was a cycle that Dean was used to dealing with throughout Sam's childhood, and he knew that this clingy phase of Sam's would pass; just like Sam's aversion to darkness. It was just going to take a little time; that was all. And Dean was willing to offer his kid brother all of the patience in the world. If Sam needed Dean to be close to him in order to help Sam recover from this, then Dean would gladly supply that.

But their Dad didn't understand Sam at all.

John didn't have much patience to begin with. Not when it came to the emotional side of things. That didn't matter to John; all that mattered to John was completing the mission at hand and pushing down the emotional baggage as deep as it would go until you couldn't feel it anymore.

But Sammy … Sammy _needed_ to talk; he needed to vent; he needed reassurance, not only verbally but physically as well; he needed to _feel_ safe and secure, not ordered to 'man up', to bury his emotional baggage like Dean had learned to do.

The more Sam clung to Dean in desperate need, the more John's fine lines of disapproval would increase, which only caused Sam to feel more self-conscious and ashamed as he tried to overcome his clingy stage by pushing Dean away for Dad's benefit.

But Dean could see the panic building within familiar hazel eyes whenever Dean stepped out of the room to go to the bathroom or to the kitchen. And when Dean returned, Sam's panicked eyes would look up at Dean in relief, the shaking of his body subsiding, the vulnerability within his little brother's eyes melting a little because his big brother was back and Sam knew that Dean would protect him, no matter what.

After a week and a half of the nightmares, aversion to dark and the clinginess Sam exhibited, John's non-patience had finally reached its limit. He ordered Dean to go and get them breakfast – something John had been doing previously – explaining to Sam that this dependency that he had on Dean was unhealthy, unnatural and it had to stop; that being apart from each other would do the brothers a world of good.

Dean had seen the apprehensive look within Sam's eyes, but like the tough, stubborn pain the ass little brother that he was, and not wanting to disappoint John any further, Sam had offered Dean a trembling smile and a slight nod of his head, indicating to Dean that he'd be all right while Dean made the breakfast run.

Dean had hesitated, still not able to willingly leave his brother's side. It wasn't only Sam that was holding onto Dean for dear life and reassurance; Dean realized that he wasn't ready to let go of Sam yet either; the two of them being able to provide comfort to each other, giving each other the strength and reassurance that they were all right and that they could get through this together.

Dean had reluctantly left after his Dad had given him the Do-As-I-Say look, Dean still not able to refuse his Dad when he gave Dean an order.

Dean would never admit it to the old man, but he _did_ feel better cruising along in his baby, having space to breathe and relax for the first time in what felt like forever. Still, Dean hadn't been able to shake the anxious, gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach, some long ingrained big brother instinct telling him that he needed to get back to Sam and soon.

The breakfast run had taken far longer than Dean had anticipated, getting back to their motel room an hour after he had left.

But, that had obviously been an hour too long, because no sooner had Dean stepped out of his beloved Impala, coffee and breakfast for all three Winchester men in his hands, than Dean heard his baby brother's anguished screams, calling out Dean's name in a lost, terrified voice which instantly pulled at Dean's big brother instinct's, his father's frustrated angry shouts trying to overpower Sam's screams of desperation and fear.

Fuck!

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

 **Ten Minutes After Call**

Sam Winchester finished writing the farewell letter to his brother before folding the paper in half and placing it in an envelope. Dean deserved a hell of a lot more explanation than a note, Sam knew, but he also knew his brother.

And there was no way that Dean would let Sam do this on his own. Not after the way Sam would freak out every other minute because of the torture he had endured two weeks ago, or the nightmares that now invaded his sleep every night, his eyes blood shot, dark circles underneath his eyes, indicating the youngest Winchester's lack of sleep.

But Sam had to do this. He had to see if Sicko was really _tracking_ him somehow or if this was just a coincidence. And the only way Sam could really test his theory was if he isolated himself from his loved ones – so that they weren't in any danger of being hurt because of him – and waited to see if Sicko found him or not.

There was no doubt that Sam was scared. Sicko had terrorized him … taken away his dignity as a man, forcing his big brother – his _hero_ – to _listen_ as Sicko proceeded to break him … but even though Sam never wanted to see that man again, scared to be in the same room as him … Sam was more terrified of what Sicko could do to his brother.

The last time Sam had tangled with this _organisation_ , Dean had been shot trying to protect him. There was no way Sam would allow anything like that to happen to his big brother again. Not if he could help it anyway.

So, Sam's only option was to leave. He had done it before when he'd left for Stanford – Sam refused to acknowledge that they had broken the deal and had found and taken him anyway – he could do it again. As much as it pained him to be away from his family – Dean especially – Sam knew that this was the only viable option left …

Well, there was suicide, but … Sam wasn't quite that desperate yet.

Leaving was the way that he protected Dean, Caelan, Dad and all of the others that he loved. This was the only way he could save his family from coming to any harm. And if Sam happened to get hurt in the process because of it … well, so be it, at least his family would be safe.

That was Sam's mistake. He _never_ should have involved his family in what had always been _his_ problem. He'd been warned of what would happen to his family if they ever found out about the yearly _punishment_ sessions that he had been receiving since he was eleven-years old.

He'd been warned. But Sam had grown arrogant, cocky.

After two years of no _punishments_ , Sam had grown careless, he had forgotten how _cruel_ his tormentors and punishers could be; he had forgotten – or not cared – about the consequences that would befall his family if he ever let slip about the _punishment_ sessions or if he _told_ them what had been done to him for all of these years.

And now, look what had happened.

The love of Caelan's life had died; Dean had been shot; his Dad had been stabbed, being forced to kill a man, a _Hunter_ , a _friend_ , all because Sam had forgotten, gotten careless or not cared in his drugged terrified state of mind that he should _never, ever_ tell _anyone_ about the _punishments_.

None of this would have happened if Sam had just followed that one simple rule.

Sam would give _anything_ to be able to go back in time and _not_ make that phone call to Caelan, to save his family from being put through all that they had all because they were trying to protect Sam, but Sam _couldn't_ travel back in time.

So, the next best thing he could do was to move on. He would take on Sicko and Marc Ley-Lamp by himself … hell; he'd take on the _organisation_ single-handedly if he had to. Because although Sam had learned his lesson on not to involve his family, he was equally determined _never_ to have any more _punishment_ sessions.

They would have to kill him before they shoved him in that damn box again!

 **TBC**

 _ **Aten:**_ _I know I promised you all one more chapter, but this chapter grew out of control and I had to extend to an extra three chapters instead of one. But fear not, all of the chapters have been written and typed up except for the last one, so all I need to do is go through them and I will get them out to you as soon as possible._

 _Thanks for your continued patience and support, it really means a lot to me._


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy.

If there is anything I have left out or you are still unsure about, please feel free to message me. You never know, I may have left it unintentionally unresolved for a reason (possibly a sequel).

 **Special Note:** Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Thanks to everyone for their patience and continued interest.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER FORTY-NINE**

Dean was running to their motel room before he was even aware of what he was doing, only knowing that his little brother was so distraught that not even Dad's bellowing orders to "Stop wailing like a spoilt child and man up, because you're a Winchester for Christ's sake!" and "Winchester men don't act like snivelling children!" was having no effect on calming the young man down.

Dean needed to get to Sam now, before this situation got even more out of control than it already was.

Ignoring the curious motel guests who had come out of their rooms at the screams and shouting that emanated from the Winchesters motel room, Dean quickly kicked open the door and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him.

Sam was curled up in a ball in the corner by the bed, arms wrapped around his knees, eyes squeezed tightly shut, rocking, tears spilling down his pale, drawn checks, screaming for Dean to help him; while John was in front of Sam, kneeling on one knee, hands on Sam's shoulders, wild panic and fury fighting for dominancy upon John's features, shouting in Sam's face, violently shaking Sam as if that action alone could somehow calm his youngest son down.

Dean watched in horror as John's right hand left Sam's left shoulder to arc up and land a swift, stinging blow upon his brother's left check.

"Snap the fuck out of it Sammy!" John growled, and Dean could hear the rising frustration within his Dad's voice, underlined by a tinge of fear.

Sam's eyes snapped open and everything seemed to go still and silent for a long heartbeat, Sam blinking at John repeatedly, a stunned look upon his young face before Sam shrunk further into himself, his wails increasing in volume, his breaths coming out in panicked gasps now, his whole body shaking, ducking his head in between his knees, refusing his father's touch, cringing away from John as if he thought John was going to cause him more harm.

Dean had opened the door to the room, Sam in a state of confusion and agitation; but now, because of John's actions, Sam was descending rapidly into hysteria; his breathing and closed-off posture indicating that Sam was on the verge of having a full blown panic attack.

It had been hard enough dealing with a younger version of Sam when he had a panic attack, but now that Sam was an adult, taller than him, Dean wasn't too confident in his ability to be able to calm his brother as he once had.

Hearing the pitiful wails from his baby brother, caused Dean to move into action, instantly needing to help Sam when he was in pain or scared. Dean pushed a shell-shocked John Winchester out of the way, shooting his father a murderous glare before he knelt next to Sam, gently placing a hand upon his brother's shaking knee, his tone low, soft, soothing as he gently coaxed his brother into an easier, more regular breathing pattern.

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, engulfing Sam in his embrace, Sam instinctively tucking his head protectively within his brother's chest, shaking and sobbing, recognizing the familiar arms that encircled him and had always kept him safe.

"What the hell happened?" Dean asked his father, his narrowed eyes glaring daggers at John. "I leave for one freakin hour and come back to see all hell has broken loose! Sam shaking and traumatized, curled up in a ball while you're looming over him, shouting at him, shaking him … Couldn't you see that Sam was scared out of his mind? You didn't need to hit him."

Instant regret morphed into John's dark eyes, realizing that he hadn't handled the situation as well as he should have. "I was only trying to calm him down," John explained in a soft voice. "I thought the shock of a slap would snap him out of it. It used to work on you when you were younger."

"That's not how Sammy works," Dean had sighed. "And if I ever see you put your fucking hands on my brother like that again, I _will_ be drawing blood! Do you understand me?"

It didn't take a genius to figure out why Dean had come back to see his baby brother cowering in a corner, bordering on a full-blown panic attack, crying out for Dean once John had explained what had caused such a violent outburst from his youngest son.

Because of John's actions, he had inadvertently caused Sam to become lost within a memory he was trying desperately hard to forget. Sam had been learning over the small table in their room to get his lap-top, when John had come up behind Sam and touched Sam upon the shoulder, which had caused the youngest Winchester to react the way he had.

Dean could still hear his younger brother's shrieks of pain as Dead Fucker relished in the fact that he was breaking the youngest Winchester while Dean was forced to listen to it all, unable to do anything to help his baby brother.

Dean had told his father to disappear for a couple of hours while he tried to calm his younger brother down. At first, John had refused to go, but once Dean had explained _why_ Sam had freaked out like he had, John had given Dean a curt nod, his lips thinned in anger as he left his boys alone; feeling a pang of regret that it was Dean, Sam looked to and not John. But John knew that he had brought this on himself by leaving his boys alone so much while they were growing up.

It had taken Dean half the night to calm his sibling down, the kid eventually tiring himself out by crying himself into a state of exhaustion.

John had come back the next day and his demeanour toward Sam changed so dramatically that it hadn't taken Sam long to figure out that something was wrong. John Winchester had never been much of a toucher-hugger-feely type, but a simple hand to the shoulder or ruffling of the hair had shown the Winchester siblings that their Dad truly _did_ care about then, and a simple touch was how John conveyed his feelings.

Now, John avoided Sam like he had the plague, would go out of his way not to touch Sam in any way, shape or form. Dean knew that his Dad was doing everything in his power not to upset Sam again, not wanting to remind Sam of one of the worst days of his life, but Dean could see the hurt forming within his brother's expressive puppy-dog hazel eyes, thinking that John was avoiding him because he was ashamed and disgusted by Sam and this was the only way that John could let Sam know that he now rejected Sam.

The big fight between Dad and Sam had come just two days ago. And the fact that Sam was now willing to stand up to Dad and tell him what he thought just proved to Dean how much stronger and more confident his brother was becoming. If Sam could argue with the old man, then Sam was almost well enough to move again … maybe even hunt again.

Sam had been suffering from the nightmares ever since they had escaped from the hospital, but the nightmare Sam had awoken up from two nights ago had been different.

Sam had insisted that Caelan was in grave danger and they needed to get to him as soon as possible. Dean was willing to trust his brother's judgement, jump into the Impala and drive off to Caelan's location immediately, recognizing the same qualities that Sam had exhibited when he had dreamed that their Dad had been stabbed while in the hospital; but John had wanted more than a gut feeling and a dream to go off of.

Reluctantly, Sam had admitted that Dean Fucker and Marc Ley-Lamp were the ones that Sam had seen in his dream, the ones who had come for Caelan and hurt him.

"Marc's dead son, remember? I killed that traitorous son of a bitch myself by slicing his neck open. There's no way that bastard could have survived that. Believe me, he's dead." John had told Sam in a no argument, no nonsense tone, Dean becoming worried, not sure of his brother's mental state at the moment, wondering if everything his baby brother had suffered through was finally putting a strain on Sam's mental capabilities.

But Sam was adamant that Marc was still alive and gunning for Caelan right now.

An argument between the oldest Winchester and the youngest Winchester ensured in a battle of wills, while Dean could only stand there, caught in the middle, playing referee and peace-maker to the best of his ability.

After John realized that he wouldn't be able to talk any sense into his youngest son, John had stormed out of the room, saying that he couldn't stand by and watch his youngest boy fall to pieces and acting like a crazy guy.

Those words had hurt Sam, Dean could tell, and after making sure that Sam knew Dean wouldn't be leaving him, Dean went outside to see his father leaning up against his truck, a worried, anxious look upon his face.

"I hate to do this to you Dean, but I have to go." John had informed his oldest son, regret clearly evident in his voice. "There's something I need to take care of in order to protect Sammy."

Dean had wanted to yell and curse at his Dad for abandoning them once more, but instead he had only nodded, hiding his bitter disappointment behind the carefully crafted mask he reserved for his Dad alone.

"Take care of your brother Dean, and … I'll call when I can."

"Yeah Dad, of course," Dean replied, watching as John jumped into his truck and took off without smoothing things out with Sam or saying goodbye … which was typical of John's character, but Dean had somehow hoped that this whole experience had given John a different perspective on things.

 **DW JW CH SW DW JW CH SW DW JW CH SW DW**

"Sammy," Caelan sighed, his voice softening slightly, easily detecting the kid's fear. "What is it kid? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm … I'm sorry Caelan, I know I'm probably the last person in the world that you want to talk to right now, and I know you probably hate me, but … " Sam sighed loudly, his voice low, fill of urgency and Caelan just knew that the young man was bitting his bottom lip nervously.

"I don't hate you kid," Caelan said, resigning himself to the fact that he probably wouldn't be getting anymore sleep tonight as he cautiously raised himself into a sitting position. "None of what happened is your fault. It's not like you _asked_ for this _organisation_ to target you … right?"

"Right." Sam agreed, his laugh sounding more like a sob. "I just … I'm sorry I woke you, but … I had this … _feeling_ and … I think you should leave the motel right now and come to us." Sam finished off in a rush, embarrassment colouring his tone. "I know it seems silly but … please Caelan … please leave there right now. You don't even need to come to us, just … get away from where you are right now.

I tried to tell Dad that he's still alive, but you know how Dad is, won't believe anything without solid proof to back it up and I don't have any solid proof … well, I do … kind of, but he wouldn't believe me even if I could explain it. Hell, I don't even know _how_ to explain it.

I just … I don't know how _he_ found me. I think maybe he might be tracking me somehow because of this … whatever the hell it is that we share with each other. I don't know. But because of me, they've found you. I'm sorry, but –"

"Breathe Sammy," Caelan ordered, his head spinning, not only from this epic hangover he was about to have but because of Sam's garbled explanation. The kid was rambling and Caelan knew that was never a good sign. He was scared, but Caelan had no clue what the kid was scared about.

While Sam took a breath, Caelan tried hard to work thought what the youngest Winchester had said, trying to make sense of his words, of his fear.

With an inward moan, Caelan switched on the light and got to his feet, instinctively starting to pack his belongings into his bag, knowing that all of his other problems had to be put on hold and he needed to get to the kid before he did something stupid in his obviously panicked state.

No matter what else Caelan might be going through, he couldn't in good conscience ignore a call from his distressed _brother_. "Okay kid, how are you doing?" Caelan was relieved to notice that the kid's breathing appeared to be somewhat calmer now.

"I'm really sorry Caelan," Sam gasped, sounding desperately close to sobbing now.

"Its fine," Caelan replied easily, slinging his bag over his shoulder, his eyes doing one final sweep of the room before he quickly exited the room. "Where are you now? Where's Dean?"

"Dean … I … gave him the night off brotherly duties. He was starting to climb the walls and I feared I might actually kill him if he stayed, so …"

"Fair enough," Caelan chuckled, knowing how protective Dean would have been of Sam considering what had happened and how being hovered over annoyed the youngest sibling considerably.

"Please Caelan, just get out of there," Sam pleaded. "I know how stupid it sounds because of a … _feeling_ , but –"

"Relax little dude, I'm out, okay?" Caelan tried to soothe the young man. "I'm on my way to you as we speak."

"Oh thank God," Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks Caelan. It's probably nothing but …" Sam let out a laugh that was half-embarrassed and half-hysterical.

"Why don't you tell me what's going on Sammy?" Caelan asked, his tone level and calm, hoping to keep the young man from freaking out any further.

"I told you. I have this … _feeling_ and somehow, I don't know how, but I think he's tracking me somehow."

"Who Sammy?"

"Sicko and … Marc Ley-Lamp."

Caelan couldn't help but frown at Sam's hesitant, reluctant reply. "Ah … Marc's dead kid," he told Sam as gently as he could. Maybe something had happened in the week Caelan had been away from the Winchester siblings to cause Sam's memory to go haywire. "You're Dad told us that he killed him … remember?"

"Yeah, I know that." Sam huffed out in irritation. "But he's _not dead_ Caelan. He was dead, but now he's not." Sam insisted. "Sicko he … I can't … all I can say with certainty is that Marc Ley-Lamp _is_ alive, Sicko is his son and the two of them are heading in your direction right now."

Caelan was more concerned than before; Sam's muddled explanation made even less sense the more the kid tried to explain himself. "Sam –"

"Look, I know how _crazy_ this sounds Caelan. I've heard it all before from Dad; that's why he decided to take off because he couldn't stand to be around his crazy as a loon son any longer. And that's why Dean keeps looking at me as if … as if he's scared I'm gonna crack and I'll end up in a loony bin!" Sam's laugh definitely sounded more hysterical this time.

"But, you and Dad and Dean … you don't have to worry about me anymore. I don't care if you all think I'm crazy. I know that Sicko is tracking me somehow. He has to be. Because nobody else outside of _us_ knows where we are. So, in order to prove my … theory, I'm taking myself out of the equation."

"Wait … what? Sammy, what are you talking about?" Caelan's heart beat faster in fear. "You don't need to be making such rash decisions Sam. Let's just take a minute to take a breath; I'll round up your brother and we'll come to you where we can all discuss this in a calm and rational manner … okay kiddo?"

Nothing but silence from the other end.

"Sam? Are you still with me little dude?"

"Yeah."

Caelan relaxed slightly when he heard Sam's soft reply. "Okay, good. I'll be there –"

"Caelan, I'm sorry but … Look, I'm the reason you guys were dragged into this mess in the first place. If I hadn't of called you that day and got you all involved in this, Elizabeth wouldn't have died.

I can't … if he's really tracking me the way I think he is, then you guys aren't safe around me. Nobody is safe around me. Don't you get that? I can't have you or Dean hurt because of me.

I couldn't live with myself if … sorry Caelan, but I won't be here when you get here. Tell Dean … you know what, never mind. I promise to call you guys when I get settled, okay? I'll … thanks for everything Caelan and I'm sorry … for everything."

"Sam, wait a minute man, let's calm down and –"

Caelan's words were cut off by the sound of a dial tone. "Damn it!" Caelan growled, not liking the icy, twisting feeling in his stomach. That damn stupid kid was just going to take off? Take off half-cocked, panicked, upset and confused? Take off because he _thought_ that by being with them he was putting them all in danger?

Oh hell no!

There was no way that Caelan was going to let the youngest Winchester go off on his own, handling all of this shit by himself because he thought he would be protecting them.

God, how had Caelan not seen this? He'd been too wrapped up in his own self-misery, guilt and remorse that he didn't _see_ … he didn't _care_ what this was doing to Sam.

Man, he had screwed up majorly with this one. Caelan had abandoned his brothers when they'd needed him the most; too wrapped up in himself, but there was no way that he would let Sam walk away from them.

They'd let Sam go to Stanford because they thought he had wanted out of the hunting life, when in reality he had been bullied into leaving in order to protect them. There was no way that Caelan was letting Sam walk away to protect them again. Not this time.

"Dean Winchester, you better be sober man. And after I'm done kicking my own butt, I'll be kicking yours!" Caelan vowed under his breath as he quickly located Dean's number, listening to the ringing on the other end, impatiently waiting for the older Winchester sibling to pick up.

 **CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH**

Now, two days later, Dean was standing outside of the motel room, having been kicked out by his younger brother. At Sam's instance, the Winchester siblings had arrived in the same town where Caelan was apparently holed up this morning.

Dean was almost tempted to seek out his friend, his brother, desperately needing someone to confide in, but Dean couldn't leave his baby brother unprotected. Not when Sam's emotions were all over the place.

So, Dean had stayed outside of the motel room, willing to give his brother the space that he seemed to crave for, out of sight and waited until Sam fell asleep before Dean felt comfortable enough with moving toward his baby, deciding that he was in dire need of a drink or two … dozen!

Dean was nursing his second beer, having been at the bar that was two blocks from their motel for half an hour now, not really in the mood to drink, too anxious and concerned about Sam to be able to relax enough to enjoy himself.

With an inner sigh, Dean decided that he would finish off his beer and head back to the motel, no matter what Sammy said or wanted, when Dean's cell phone chimed loudly from within his front pocket.

"Yeah?" Dean answered, not bothering to check his caller ID, knowing that only people he trusted had this new number.

"Dean Winchester, I am going to kick your ass for leaving _our_ brother all alone in the vulnerable, erratic and unpredictable state he's in!"

Dean almost choked on his beer at the familiar voice that berated him. "Caelan? Hey dude, I was just about to come and pay you a visit." Dean stated, never believing he'd be so happy to hear the slightly irritated voice of his best friend and brother.

Because, no matter how much Dean had tried to down-play Sam's dream of Caelan being hurt as just a product of Sam's mind playing tricks on him, Dean had been worried, scared that his _brother_ may be in danger and Dean being unable to prevent that from happening.

The way that Caelan had taken off after Elizabeth had died, avoiding all contact from any of them, had caused Dean to fear what reckless actions Caelan might take in this dark self-destructive mood.

But now, here Caelan was, sounding perfectly fine as he grilled Dean, promising to hurt Dean for leaving Sam alone.

Dean frowned, his happiness instantly giving way to wariness and dread as Caelan's words penetrated his mind. "Wait a minute, what do you mean?"

Caelan let out a long exhausted sigh. "How drunk are you Dean?"

"Not drunk enough man," Dean answered truthfully. "I'm on my second beer. Why? What's going on Cal? Are you okay?"

"Dean, I just … the kid just called me, panicked, scared, spouting off a whole lot of crazy things that didn't make a whole lot of sense to me. I think … I think Sammy's in trouble … again."

 **TBC**

 _ **Aten:**_ _See, told you I'd be fast. But this one was already typed up. Two more chapters to type up, so that may take me a bit longer … but definitely will be ready to post by tomorrow._

 _Thanks for your continued patience and support, it really means a lot to me._


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy.

If there is anything I have left out or you are still unsure about, please feel free to message me. You never know, I may have left it unintentionally unresolved for a reason (possibly a sequel).

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Pie Love Luci** and **Kas3y** for your reviews and your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Thanks to everyone for their patience and continued interest.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER FIFTY**

Sam shook his head to clear his mind of these morbid thoughts. Things could have turned out a lot worse than what they had. At least his family was still alive, battered and bruised, but alive. And Sam was determined to keep them that way. They were _not_ going to suffer anymore because of him.

Sam let out a long shaky breath, trying to steady his nerves, placing his note for Dean upon the pillow of his perfectly made bed, relieved beyond words that Caelan was now out of harm's way.

Even though Sam knew he had sounded like some crazy demented person, Caelan had heeded his warning and got out of his motel room. Sam didn't care if Caelan believed him or not, he didn't care that Caelan had left more out of worry and concern for Sam's mental state than because he believed what Sam had told him. All Sam cared about was that Caelan was out, and he was safe.

Caelan was the one who had suffered the worst because this _organisation_ had targeted Sam Winchester. Caelan had lost his father – Connor Hagen – eleven years ago because he had seen Sicko kissing, touching and raping a drugged up, helpless eleven-year old Sam Winchester, whom Connor had considered a surrogate nephew.

And now, eleven years later, Caelan had lost the love of his life – Elizabeth Stewart Cox – because Roger Stewart – her father – had wanted to retrieve Sam and hand deliver him to the _organisation_ , so that Roger could reclaim his position with the _organisation's_ ranks.

Sam honestly couldn't blame the older Hunter for wanting to get as far away from Sam as he possibly could once Elizabeth had died. And Sam was sure that despite Dean's and Caelan's denials, that Caelan blamed Sam in some way for Elizabeth's death.

Sam had promised himself that he wouldn't annoy or disturb Caelan anymore, having no delusions that now, after everything that had happened and the truth about how his Dad had died had come to light, that the older man that he'd looked up to and admired for most of his life now hated and despised Sam with a passion.

After all, how could he not?

So, Sam was determined not to antagonize Caelan any further, but when the dreams had come … when Sam had … _connected_ with Sicko once more, had seen the way both men – Sicko and Marc Ley-Lamp – had tracked Caelan down, beating him to within an inch of his life for information before pouring out litres of gasoline around Caelan's room; Caelan lying there, helpless, barely able to move or breath as Marc and Sicko left the room, but not before setting a match to the gasoline soaked duvet cover of the bed that Caelan lay upon and hearing the screams of excoriating pain as Caelan was consumed by fire all because of him, Sam knew that he'd had no choice but to break his promise to contact Caelan and warn him about the danger he was in.

And now that Caelan was safe, Sam knew that he had to disappear. He had to get out of his family's lives so that no one else suffered because of him. Sam wasn't being forced out this time – an ultimatum Marc Ley-Lamp had offered to Sam in order to keep his family save – this was _his_ choice. This was the only choice, the only way that Sam could protect his brothers from the very real threat that Sicko, Marc and this _organisation_ posed.

This was the way that Sam kept his family safe and alive. Although Sam feared being by himself, and especially since he knew he wasn't one hundred percent recovered either physically or mentally – he was still having nightmares, the odd panic attacks creeping up on him without warning – but now that Sicko and Marc had closed in on Sam's location, Sam knew that it was his time to move, time for him to fend for himself once more.

 **SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW**

"Say wha …. Come again?" Dean's heart clenched painfully in his chest, his heart beating faster in fear and panic, Caelan's dire warning sending adrenaline coursing throughout Dean's system.

"Sammy … I think the kid's in trouble," Caelan repeated, his voice sounding almost apologetic.

Oh God, please no, not again! Dean had barely survived his Sammy being in trouble two weeks ago. Dean wasn't too confident he had the strength or the stamina to survive another round.

"No, he's not. I just … he was _sleeping_ when I left. I've only been gone for half an hour Caelan, there's no way that Sam's in trouble." Dean denied vehemently, his voice rising sharply.

"Sorry Dean, I just spoke to the kid not more than ten minutes ago. And from the way he was talking … he's either getting ready to take off by himself because he thinks he's protecting us and that he's a bad omen or something … _or_ , he's going to do something incredibly stupid."

Dean wanted to bombard Caelan with questions, but he also knew that time might not be a luxury Dean had. Sam could have woken up from a nightmare, or he might not have been asleep at all. Sam's head space … wasn't exactly in a stable state at the moment. Half an hour … there's no telling how much trouble Sam could get into in that time!

"Shit!" Dean was off the bar stool so fast that the people around him looked up at him in surprise. "I'm heading back to the motel right now. Meet me there Caelan and we can formulate a plan."

Dean ended the call and sprinted back to the Impala, his hands shaking as he extracted the keys from his pocket.

Sam had played him.

Dean had thought that Sam had kicked him out because Dean was starting to get on Sam's nerves – which would further indicate that Sam was getting back to good health, both mentally and physically – but the damn kid had kicked him out with the intentions of making his own stupid, reckless plans which didn't involve Dean.

Dean could have kicked himself for not seeing it earlier. Sam had been cagey, nervous and restless the whole night. Dean had assumed that it was because Dean was hovering too much and Sam was worried about Caelan – and maybe that was true; maybe Sam had been worried about Caelan and becoming more frustrated because of Dean's increased hovering – but Dean realized that the majority of Sam's unorthodox jumpy and restless behaviour was because the kid had already planned on leaving.

Dean would have been impressed by his brother's manipulative skills if he wasn't so worried about him.

What if Sam suffered an anxiety or panic attack and Dean wasn't there to help coach Sam through it? What if Sam had a nightmare so intense that he ended up hurting himself because Dean wasn't there to reassure Sam that he was safe? What if something – a noise, a person, a memory – spooked Sam so much that he was reduced to huddling in a corner, too terrified to move, drowning in his own self-doubt, or memories and Dean wasn't there to help coax his brother out of it?

Although Sam had come a long way in the two weeks since they'd escaped the hospital – the bathroom light no longer had to be on all night, just until Sam fell asleep. And if he woke up to darkness, he didn't immediately freak out and think he was trapped. He no longer needed to have eyes on Dean twenty-four-seven in order to feel safe, or fall apart if Dean had to leave the room – but he was still nowhere near well enough or stable enough to be on his own for any length of time.

Dean wasn't stupid. He knew that Sam blamed himself for everything that had happened – which was dumb, because how in the world could Sam have known that someone would abduct him from Stanford, of all places … especially when he was out of the hunting life – and Dean had planned on setting his brother straight on that, plus a few other things that Sam had mentioned at the hospital – like being responsible for their Mum's death – when Sam's emotions had settled down into a relatively normal state.

But now … if Sammy had taken off on his own, Dean would so be kicking his brother's ass all the way back as well as enforcing some truths into his baby brother's stubborn head!

"You better be all right Sammy," Dean growled through gritted teeth. "You better be at the motel room, fast asleep, perfectly safe … or I will be tying a leash around your ass!"

 **DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW CH DW**

Caelan pulled up to the motel where the Winchester siblings were staying to see Dean leaning against the rear bumper of the Impala, hands running through his dark blonde hair, a dismayed, distraught, anxious expression upon his face and Caelan felt his heart sink, knowing, just by the look upon his brother's face that the youngest Winchester was missing once more.

Caelan parked beside the Impala and schooled his expression before he emerged from the car and approached Dean, quickly but cautiously, finding it hard to read the exact expression upon Dean's face. Was he going to lash out, start yelling, swinging his fists or was he going to run off half-cocked, desperately searching for his missing little brother, taking unnecessary risks along the way, self-destructing right before Caelan's eyes?

Caelan found it ironic how he would prefer it if Dean started swinging instead of spiralling down into the dark self-destructive mode that Caelan knew only too well. After all, wasn't that what Caelan had been doing for the past week? Slowly self-destructing?

There was nothing like a crisis to bring everything back into blindingly clarity and perspective. There was more to life than wallowing in your self-despair, grief and guilt. His father and the love of his life may have died, but Caelan suddenly realized that there were things much worse than death.

Caelan would always miss his Dad and Elizabeth, and he would give _anything_ to have them back in his life, alive, happy and safe; but since Caelan couldn't bring the dead back to life, Caelan realized that he had to hold onto what he did have; the family he had left … his _brothers_.

He had to find Sammy before Dean started down the dark path of self-doubt and guilt, wallowing much like Caelan had, hiding, trying to drink his sorrows away. Caelan couldn't watch Dean go down the path that would lead to nothing but misery and heart ache.

Caelan had been pulled back from the brink of that path by the youngest Winchester's phone call, fear and panic bring everything Caelan had been doing to himself, distancing himself, cutting himself off from not only the people who loved him, but himself as well, to the forefront of his mind and into perspective.

Because Caelan had cut himself off from everyone he had failed to see that his brothers were falling apart.

Caelan swallowed a large lump in his throat, vowing that he would fix this, he would make this better and he'd be damned if he'd watch Dean Winchester follow in his footsteps down the dark path into destruction.

"Dean," Caelan laid a hand upon the young Hunter's shoulder, squeezing gently.

"He's gone Cal," Dean said in a broken voice, eyes fixed upon a piece of paper in his hand. "He left me a damned _good bye_ note and just … took off." Dean's hands began to shake, but Caelan wasn't sure if it was because of fear or anger.

"I don't know where he's gone or how long he's been gone." Dean finally raised his eyes to Caelan and Caelan almost gasped at the desperate anguish within his brother's green eyes. "I don't know what to do Cal," Dean admitted, bitting upon his bottom lip – much like the kid would do when nervous or extremely worried – in indecision, a vulnerability Caelan had never seen before crossing Dean's features.

Caelan took a deep breath and let it out slowly, never seeing Dean as brokenly devastated as he was right now. "It's okay Dean," Caelan replied as he instinctively pulled Dean into his arms, wanting to take the stark terror and confusion from his brother's face. "We'll find Sammy, I promise."

Caelan pulled back from Dean, trying to grin light heartedly, but knew the moment his lips trembled that he couldn't keep the grin in place. "At least no one's _taken_ him this time, right?"

Dean shook his head, rolling his eyes, his trademark scowl making an appearance at Caelan's warped attempt of trying to make him feel better.

"Hey," Caelan squeezed Dean's shoulder tighter, ducking down to meet Dean's eyes. "Sammy's taken off by himself in some warped guilt-ridden delusion that he's doing this in order to keep us safe. But Dean … you _know_ that kid better than he knows himself. If anyone can find Sammy and bring him back, you can."

Caelan smiled confidently, pleased when the smile stayed upon his lips this time, because what Caelan spoke was the truth. Between the two of them, Caelan was confident that Sam would be back with them within the hour.

 **CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH DW SW CH**

Sam exited the motel room with the clear cut intention of stealing a car and getting as far away from this town as possible, finding a nice secluded place to hole up in while he set his trap and waited to see if Sicko and Marc found him because of some weird tracking ability that Sicko had acquired – hell, if he could bring back the dead, there was no telling what else he could do! – but Sam found himself being steered toward the motel where Caelan had been staying instead.

Sicko was there, right now, Sam had _seen_ it and in amongst his conflicting emotions, Sam knew, with absolute certainty that now would be the perfect chance to end this once and for all.

Why should he have to live in fear, looking over his shoulder, fearing the ultimate showdown he was obviously destined to have with Sicko, when he could end this now?

Sicko wasn't expecting Sam to come to him, to confront him, to end him. Hell, Sam didn't usually operate on a half-cocked plan like this; walking into a dangerous situation with no back-up and no formulated plan in place, but his instincts were screaming at him that this was the right thing to do.

Find Sicko, confront Sicko, eliminate Sicko … before he had a chance to eliminate Sam, before Sicko had a chance to hurt his family. That was what he had to do instead of running, hiding and living in constant fear.

Sam gritted his teeth in determination, hands clasping the steering wheel tightly, his expression set in steely resolve.

 _You should wait for Dean;_ Sam's voice of reason counselled him.

No! Dean had already gotten hurt because of him. Sam refused to endanger his brother any more than he had already.

 _Fair enough. I get why you're doing this; to protect your family, to end it once and fall all so you don't have to be apart from your family, from Dean, but … this is reckless and dangerous._

It didn't matter how reckless or dangerous it was, this was Sam's chance to end it all; to find some closure, to be able to sleep at night without fearing that Sicko would abduct him again.

 _I get that._ Sam's inner voice replied soothingly. _I want it to be over too. But what exactly is your play here? You just going to burst into the room, guns blazing and hope you get your man? What if innocent people get hurt because of your rash actions?_

Shut up! Sam told himself, a growl of annoyance leaving him at the compelling case his voice of reason was making.

The mission was clear. Find Sicko, confront Sicko, eliminate Sicko. That was all Sam had to worry about, competing the mission. He wasn't concerned with the how it was to get done or why, just that the mission needed to be completed.

 _What mission?!_ Sam's inner voice screamed at him. _There is no mission! You sound like_ _ **them**_ **.** _ **They**_ _were always talking about_ _ **the mission**_ _. You don't have a mission. Your Dad has a mission – to destroy The Demon – Dean has a mission – to keep his pain in the ass little brother out of trouble – but you … You don't have a mission. You never have. You're just part of a family that has a_ _ **mission**_ _._

 _Let's stop beating around the bush and call this plan for what it truly is … it's a suicide mission Sammy, that's what it is. You're going to go in there, guns blazing, without a plan, without back-up and Sicko … he's gonna kill you dead! Or he's gonna take you and you're going to_ _ **wish**_ _that he'd killed you dead._

Sam shook his head, wanting to deny his voice of reason – which sounded an awfully lot like Dean's warped form of logic – but he couldn't help but see the logic of his inner voice's argument.

This plan of shooting first and asking questions later, of going in half-cocked and _winging_ it, hoping that he completed the mission, not really caring if he got away unharmed or not … it wasn't how Sam operated. It wasn't how his Dad operated and it sure as hell wasn't how Dean operated.

Sam had been taught better than this.

So, if this wasn't how Sam would normally do things … _why_ was something inside of him screaming at him to do it? To complete the mission no matter what, no matter what it took, no matter how it was done, but to complete it.

Sam gasped, slamming on the brakes, pulling the car over to the side of the road, his head beginning to pound, his whole body beginning to shake and he had to fight the urge that willed him – compelled him – to complete the mission.

 _ **Complete the mission, damn it!**_

Oh God, something was wrong here. Something was very wrong.

"D … Deeaannn …" Sam's voice slurred as he fought to remain in control of his actions, as he fought the foreign voice in his head that was screaming at him to _complete the mission_!

Without knowing how it had happened, Sam found himself with his phone clutched to his ear, desperation, panic and fear rolling through him in waves, the shaking of his body continued to get worse the more he fought that voice in his head. All Sam knew for certain was that he needed Dean. Dean would be able to fix him. Whatever was wrong with him, Sam was confident that his big brother could fix it.

"Sammy! Where –"

"Deee …" Tears of relief sprung into Sam's eyes at the sound of his big brother's voice. "Some … thin' … wrong Dee …"

"It's okay Sammy, just tell me where you are and I'll come get you, okay?" Dean's strong, confident voice flowed over Sam, causing him to sob in gratitude and relief because his big brother was coming. Dean was coming and Dean could help, Dean could _fix_ whatever was wrong with him. Dean could fix anything!

" … near Cal … Cael … Caelan m'tel … Dee … ple – please … help … help me!"

"Hang on Sammy, I'm coming okay? Stay where you are, I'm coming." Was the last thing Sam heard before the pain in his head intensified so much that it caused Sam to scream out in agony before the darkness overtook him.

 **SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW**

Dean searched Caelan's deep brown eyes for several long seconds before his despondent mood suddenly evaporated. "You're damn right, I know that kid. And hell yes, we will find him!"

Dean straightened up, flashing Caelan his trademark, cocky self-assured grin. "You look like crap by the way dude! You have a hard night last night?"

Caelan laughed; relieved that Dean's lost, vulnerable look had vanished. "Yeah, you could say that. Hell man, I think I'm still drunk!"

Dean raised his eyebrows slightly at that before he chuckled dryly. "Well, I guess that means I'm driving then." He said, digging the car keys from his pocket before indicating that Caelan should get in the passenger's seat.

"I've tried calling Sammy several times, but I think the damn kid turned his phone off," Dean explained to Caelan, partly exasperated and partly proud of the fact that his little brother had covered his tracks so well. "There's nothing in the note to indicate where he's going, but if I know that kid – and I know him very well – he's probably heading out of town as we speak, wanting to put as much distance between us as possible."

"Yeah, that sounds like typical Sammy logic," Caelan nodded in agreement to Dean's assessment as he climbed into the passenger's seat of Dean's beloved Impala.

Dean shot Caelan a cheeky grin and opened his mouth to say something as he was getting into his baby, when his cell phone chimed shrilly from within his pocket.

Dean immediately dug his phone out, relief beginning to flow through him as Sam's name popped up on the caller display. "Sammy!" Dean answered, frustrated and relieved at the same time. "Where –"

Dean's relief was short lived as he listened to his brother's broken sobbing, slurred voice. Oh God, what had happened to cause this kind of reaction from his kid brother where he couldn't even talk in complete sentences?

"It's okay Sammy," Dean quickly reassured his brother, big brother protective mode fully in effect. "Just tell me where you are and I'll come get you, okay?" Dean added, his tone soft, level and full of purpose.

Dean frowned; trying to make out Sam's stuttered, slurred words before he finally understood what the kid was telling him. Sam wasn't out of town as Dean had suspected he would be, instead he had gone back to where Caelan had been staying. Gone back to the motel where Dead Fucker was supposed to be – according to Sam and his dream – heading back toward danger instead of away from it.

Fuck!

"Hang on Sammy, I'm coming, okay? Stay where you are, I'm coming." Dean told his brother, voice serious and filled with deadly intent as he scrambled into the Impala, switching his baby to life.

If those bastards had hurt his brother …

Dean's vow of vengeance was cut off by an unearthly howl of agony. "Sam!" Dean yelled into the phone, suddenly terrified of what that could mean. "Sammy?" Dean's heart rate increased in fear when he was met with nothing but silence. "Damn it Sammy, answer me!" Dean demanded, pushing his baby's accelerator to floor, desperate to get to his brother as soon as possible.

"Caelan, what motel were you at?" Dean's gaze slid across to Caelan's serious, confused expression before returning his eyes back to the road once more. "That's where Sammy is."

"Oh shit," Caelan's complexion suddenly paled at the implications of Dean's words. That damn fool kid! What the hell was he thinking?

"Caelan, now!" Dean roared, no time for piss-arsing around. He had to get to Sam and he had to do it now!

 **TBC**

 _ **Aten:**_ _One more to type up and go through and then I will post it ASAP._

 _Thanks for your continued patience and support, it really means a lot to me._


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary:** AU: Stanford Era: "Dean … Sammy's in trouble." A late night phone call sends Dean Winchester and long-time friend, Caelan Hagan in a desperate search to find Sam before the unthinkable happens; uncovering lies and secrets involving the youngest Winchester, that have been years in the making.

 **Warnings:** Violence, swearing, physical abuse, torture, implied adult themes. This chapter also contains suicidal tendencies.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Author's Note:** Just another possibility on why Sam left for Stanford. Hope you enjoy.

If there is anything I have left out or you are still unsure about, please feel free to message me. You never know, I may have left it unintentionally unresolved for a reason (possibly a sequel).

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Pie Love Luci** andfor your review and your kind words. Here's another chapter just for all you guys who have taken the time out to read this story and to all the people who have this story on their alerts or have put it on their favourite lists. Thanks. It means a lot. Thanks to everyone for their patience and continued interest.

 **DEMON SPAWN: THE PHONE CALL**

 **CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE**

Sam wasn't aware of when he regained consciousness, he wasn't aware of the heavy weight of his gun held between his hands, tears rolling down his checks, or the blood that trickled slowly from his nose, his head bowed, his chin resting upon his upper chest, the complete picture of a man destroyed, everything that he had held dear to him, gone and replaced by an emptiness, a longing that he didn't quite understand.

All Sam knew for certain was that this … obsession the _organisation_ had with him was never going to end. Sicko would never give up until Sam was dead – after he tortured him mercilessly, of course – until he'd broken Dean, until he'd eradicated the Winchester name forever.

All of the people Sam had ever loved, who had shown him compassion, given him shelter or helped him in any way, were now in danger because of Sicko's wrath and his warped desire for revenge.

Running wasn't an option anymore, because Sam knew after this event that Sicko would be able to find him wherever he went, no matter the distance or how far away Sam ran, Sicko would always be able to find him.

And if Sicko could find him, then he could find Sam's family. And Sam … he couldn't … he _wouldn't_ live with their deaths on his conscience.

No, the only option Sam had left now was to take his gun, put it to his temple and pull the damn trigger.

The _organisation_ would have no need to come after him if he was dead, no need to hurt or hunt down his family. _This_ was the only way; the only option he had left that would ensure his family, his friends' safety.

Sam caressed the gun in his lap almost lovingly, bitting upon his bottom lip, doubt beginning to creep in around the edges of his mind.

There was no doubt in Sam's mind that the _organisation_ wouldn't hurt his family if Sam was dead. But would that stop Sicko? Would he leave Sam's family, his friends alone if Sam was dead?

Knowing what he knew now, and after having been connected to him in such an intimate way that Sam had felt his feelings, experienced his inner most thoughts and how truly demented, evil and psychotic he really was … Sam wasn't convinced that his death would stop this crazy man from taking his revenge out on his family and friends just because he could.

So now, Sam was left with making one of the hardest decisions he'd ever had to make; to live or die. And no matter what he did, Sam realized that his family and friends still got hurt because of him, whether or not he died here today.

Sam bit back on his sob of anguish, despair rolling through him. He just wanted this to be over. He wanted his family, his loved ones safe.

If he could go back in time, if there was one thing that Sam could change about his past; he'd make it so that he had never been born. If he'd never been born, The Demon wouldn't have come for him, wouldn't have killed his mother. If he'd never existed, the _organisation_ wouldn't have targeted him, fixated on him because of the Demon Blood he had flowing through his veins; his family and friends wouldn't be put in peril because they were trying to protect him, shield him from these outside threats, such as the _organisation_ and Sicko.

Sam's silent tears fell more quickly, the young Hunter wishing for freedom, for escape, for death, but knowing that his death wouldn't solve anything. Not now. Still, the idea of ending it all, right here and now was so appealing to the youngest Winchester that it was hard to ignore the urge to just do it, to finish it once and for all.

He understood now why he'd had to urge to go back to Caelan's motel room, to confront Sicko and eliminate him, eliminate the threat, to complete what would no doubt have been a suicide mission.

He'd seen it as he had fallen unconscious, after his desperate call for help to his big brother, when he had once again reconnected with Sicko in both body and mind; that it had been Sicko who had planted these thoughts in Sam's mind, trying to force and lure the youngest Winchester into a trap, into his ultimate demise and destruction.

Sicko, sensing an intrusion within his mind when Sam had dreamed of Caelan's untimely death, had set a psychic trap for Sam. He didn't know that it was Sam who had invaded his mind; all he knew was that this intruder was powerful enough to become dangerous and had to be eliminated.

So now, not only could Sicko bring dead men back to life, he could also force his will upon another's mind.

Sam had almost succumbed to that will – would have succumbed to it – except for the fact that this was a newly acquired skill and Sicko had over-exerted himself, which was the only reason that Sam had been able to fight back.

Sam didn't know how long he sat there, caressing his gun as if it was a long lost lover, contemplating his death, contemplating his life, trying to decide the best course of action to take; to live or die.

Sam jumped, startled when he felt rough, calloused hands on either side of his face. Sam instinctively began to flinch and pull away from that touch, but a familiar voice penetrated his numb mind and Sam couldn't help but lean into the comfort of that familiar touch which had always provided Sam with such warmth, love and understanding.

"Dean," Sam gasped, slowly lifting his head to look up into anxious, concerned green eyes.

"It's okay Sammy, I've got you." Dean smiled gently, carding reassuring fingers through his brother's unruly dark hair. "It's okay Sammy, you're safe now."

Sam felt hysterical laughter rising to the surface, fighting to get free, but somehow Sam held it back, his bottom lip trembling violently. "I don't know what to do Dee," Sam wailed pitifully. "I don't … Dee; I need you to kill me … _please_ …"

 **SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW DW CH SW**

Dean knew when he spotted the car on the side of the road, engine still running, not more than ten minutes out from Caelan's motel room, that his baby brother was in that car.

Dean brought the Impala to a screeching halt, causing Caelan to smack his head upon the dashboard. Before Caelan had a chance of mouthing off to Dean because of the unexpected, sudden stop, Dean had jumped out of the Impala and sprinted to the car on the side of the road.

Through the driver's window, Dean could see a familiar tall figure hunched in the driver's seat. Dean immediately scanned the car and the area for any sign of anything that shouldn't be there; but the coast was clear and Dean let out a sigh of relief.

Thank God, he had found Sam and the kid appeared to be safe. But as Dean knew all too well, looks could be deceiving. And the scream of agony that he'd heard from his brother before the line went dead, suggested to Dean that something extremely painful had happened to his kid brother to have screamed like that.

Barely pausing for a breath, Dean ripped open the car door and froze at the sight that greeted him.

Sam was sitting in a hunched position, his shoulders shaking in a way that reminded Dean of when Sam had been younger and was trying to hide the fact that he was crying. That in itself, knowing that Sam was in so much pain that he was reduced to tears, was enough to cause Dean to freeze.

But it was what Dean spied next, and the way that his brother was caressing it, cradling it, that caused Dean's heart to stop mid-beat, the breath to catch in his throat, the implications of his brother's actions – or what he _could_ do – made Dean want to rip the gun from Sam's hands and throw it away, keep it out of Sam's grasp until Dean knocked some sense into that big stupid brain of his. But Dean knew that any sudden movement from him might cause Sam to pull the trigger reflectively.

Dean took a deep, steadying breath; eyes glued to the gun in his brother's hands, which were resting in his lap, eyes widening slightly when he noticed that the safety was off. Was his brother seriously thinking of going through with this? If Dean wasn't here, would his brother use the gun on himself?

Dean shook his head, trying to dismiss the image of his little brother using the gun to blow his own brains out. It didn't matter what Sam had been planning on doing or not doing. Dean was here now, and there was no way in hell that he would let Sam ever pull that trigger. It was time to bring his little brother back from the ledge.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean called out in a soft, gentle voice as he crouched down next to his brother. "Hey baby bro, you wanna tell me what's going here?"

There was no reaction from Sam at all, but now that Dean was closer, he could see the tears streaming down his brother's checks, his posture one of abject misery and complete failure, chewing on his bottom lip so hard that Dean feared the kid would break through the skin any minute now.

"Sammy, why don't you give me the gun and we can talk about this, okay?" Cautiously, Dean moved his hand toward the gun in his brother's lap, using the same calm and even tone of voice he would use whenever the kid was too terrified to listen to reason or he was on the verge of having one hell of a panic attack.

Still, Sam didn't acknowledge his presence in any way, even when Dean gently placed a hand upon the gun that Sam cradled within his own hands.

"That's it Sammy, give me the gun and then we can get you somewhere comfortable and we can talk about all of this." Dean encouraged as he began the slow, delicate process of removing the gun from his brother's hands without accidentally causing Sam to pull the trigger in reflex.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief when he managed to extract the gun from Sam's hands without incident. "I'm not mad Sammy, okay?" Dean told his shaking sibling as he handed Caelan Sam's gun, knowing that Caelan was behind him, ready to offer assistance if needed, Dean never taking his eyes off of his kid brother.

"Hey kid, c'mon, talk to me," Dean brushed Sam's hair away, desperate to get a look at Sam's eyes because Sam's eyes were always so expressive and just one look into those puppy-dog eyes was usually more than enough for Dean to gauge Sam's moods and know what was going through the kid's mind.

Dean let out a shocked breath when he saw the dried blood tracks from his brother's nose, a dead, empty look within Sam's eyes, tears still running down his pale, drawn checks.

"Sammy!" Dean gasped, hands instantly going to either side of Sam's head, forcing the kid's head up so he could get a better look at the injury. "What the hell happ – hey, hey, easy Sammy, it's just me," Dean soothed when Sam jumped and tried to cringe away from Dean's touch. "It's me buddy, you're safe. I've got you baby brother, I've got you."

"Dean," Sam breathed on an exhale, the trembling within his body beginning to ease as he finally looked up to meet Dean's eyes.

Dean almost burst into tears himself at the look of despondency on the kid's face. "It's okay Sammy, I've got you." Dean held his shaky smile in place as he ran calming, soothing fingers through his brother's hair, knowing that this was one action that he could use which would calm the kid down in a hurry and reassure him that he was safe. "It's okay Sammy, you're safe now."

Sam's expression twisted into an expression Dean didn't recognize, but which disturbed none the less, his words seeming to upset Sam more than to provide him with the comfort Dean had intended.

"I don't know what to do Dee," Sam wailed, his bottom lip trembling violently, giving Dean the saddest, most pitiful puppy-eyes Dean had ever seen. "I don't … Dee; I need you to kill me … _please_ …"

Dean blinked stupidly at Sam for several seconds before Sam's request penetrated his brain. "No." Dean replied immediately, sick, shocked and horrified by his brother's desperate plea. "No Sammy, I'm not killing you. Are you completely out of your friggin' mind? Why the hell would you ask me to _do_ that?"

"Because it's the only way," Sam stated in a matter of fact tone. "It's the only way I can keep you all safe." Sam paused, pursing his lips thoughtfully, a light frown creasing his brow. "Well, it's the only way that will keep the _organisation_ from coming after you. If I'm dead, they won't have any reason to bother you.

But Sicko …" Sam's frown increased, a look of worry and unease entering his hazel eyes. "I don't think he'd care if I was dead or not. He'd come after you anyway. I can't protect you from him, I'm sorry. But I can protect you from the _organisation_. Kill me and the curse upon our family is lifted."

Sam grabbed Dean's hands into his own. "Don't you see Dean? Nothing bad would have happened to our family if I'd never been born." He began earnestly.

"That's ridiculous Sammy," Dean interrupted, his voice harsher than he had intended, shifting uncomfortably, not liking where this conversation was headed; or where his brother's head was at. "Stop talking like that!"

"No Dean, it's the truth." Sam insisted, squeezing Dean's hands urgently, desperate to make Dean see the truth of his words. "If I wasn't born, The Demon wouldn't have killed Mum," Sam rushed on, eager to convince Dean that this was the only way to keep their family safe. "The _organisation_ wouldn't have targeted me, Sicko wouldn't have become obsessed with me; you, Mum and Dad would have been happy. No hunting, no monsters, no secret _organisation_."

Dean shook his head at his brother's fucked up logic, seeing how that could make sense to Sam – because Sam was always so much harder on himself than he needed to be – but knowing that Sam had forgotten the most important part of his existence.

It was time to put a stop to this nonsense once and for all. Dean's expression hardened, anger at what his brother had said and believed, flaring within his green eyes as he gripped his brother's head in his hands, forcing Sam to look into his eyes.

"You listen to me Samuel Winchester," Dean began, holding his brother's gaze in his own, green eyes deadly serious, hoping and praying that these words could help pull his brother back from the brink of blaming himself so much, that the guilt for what had happened either drove his brother completely insane or he really _did_ put a gun to his head and pull the trigger.

"You are not responsible or to blame for any of that happening. The Demon is to blame for Mum's death. You can't control what this _organisation_ thinks or acts upon, so how can you blame yourself for them targeting you or for Dead Fucker, who is one sick, twisted son of a bitch?

Don't _ever_ wish yourself dead Sam," Dean continued, his voice becoming rougher with emotion. "You are my pain in the ass kid brother and I'd be _lost_ if you'd never been born … or you died here today.

You think I'm the one who saves and protects you? And of course I do, I'll protect you from the monsters, people, bullies, whatever tries to hurt you because that's what big brother's do.

But you Sammy, you are the reason I can get up every day and carry on. You keep me sane in this fucked up life that Dad brought us up in. If you weren't here …" Dean shook his head, sighing deeply, a bitter smile on his lips. "Hell, I think I would have ended up in jail, locked up in a nut house or hooked on drugs."

The smile trembled upon Dean's lips, seeing Sam's hazel eyes widen in astonishment at Dean's words. "Don't ever wish you were dead Sammy or ask me to kill you, because if you died … I wouldn't be too far behind you."

Dean rested his forehead against Sam's, feeling the hot sting of tears gathering within his eyes. "We can beat this bro, we can. We can beat all of those bastards out there that want to hurt you or think that they can experiment on you.

We can beat them, but only if we're together Sammy. I can't fight this fight on my own. Please little brother; I need you fighting the fight with me. _Together_ we can beat them all. The two of us, together … hell, we can beat the whole damn world if we have to!"

Dean pulled back slightly to peer into those hazel eyes that he knew and loved so well. "What do you say Sammy? Are you with me?"

Sam was silent for a long time, the empty despairing feeling not entirely leaving him, knowing that he was putting his family in unnecessary danger with every breath that he took, but Dean's words and the emotion that he had let Sam see, caused Sam's heart to swell with renewed confidence and strength, the will to fight and live beating strongly within him.

Sam raised his eyes, a slow steady grin lighting his face. That was just typical of Dean to be able to provide Sam with the strength that needed; to provide Sam with a purpose to go on when all seemed hopeless and lost; to be able to say the right words that resonated with Sam, causing him to become stronger, to become better, all because his brother _believed_ in him.

"Yeah Dean, I'm with you." Sam replied, watching as Dean's lips stretched into a grin of his own.

Caelan watched as the Winchester siblings reconnected, giving each other the strength and support they would need to face whatever evil monster, person or _organisation_ that came their way.

Caelan had been pulled from the brink of self-destruction by the youngest Winchester; Sam had been pulled from the brink of self-annihilation by the oldest Winchester sibling; together there wasn't anything the Winchester brothers couldn't accomplish or overcome.

And now that Caelan's head was cleared and back in the game, he would provide the Winchesters with his loyalty, support and whatever they might need; because now he realized he had something worth fighting for, worth living for and there was no way in hell that he was going to let anyone tear him away from the bond he and the Winchesters had.

They still had a long way to go and a lot of mending to do, but Caelan was confident that between the three of them, they could take down whomever and whatever came their way.

"There's a lot I need to tell you both," Sam was saying as Dean helped the youngest Winchester from the car; Sam eyeing both Dean and Caelan with seriousness and trepidation.

"Later Sammy," Dean replied easily, resting a light hand upon his brother's shoulder. "For now, let's get the hell out of this town. I think all of us have earned a break and long rest before we plan our next move. What do you say guys, should we invade Pastor Jim's or Bobby's?"

Sam and Caelan shared a look before they both pipped up with the same answer in unison.

Dean laughed as he gently guided Sam toward the Impala. "Right, Bobby's it is then. Don't look so worried little brother," Dean advised, ruffling the kid's hair affectionately. "Now that the three of us are united again, there's nothing we can't handle. Together we're invincible!"

Caelan groaned loudly at Dean's corny words, while Sam rolled his eyes, but both men wore the same soft smile upon their lips. They had survived, and come out of this encounter stronger than ever. No matter what happened next, Sam knew that he wouldn't be facing it alone.

With his brothers by his side, Sam knew that he could beat whatever obstacle that came their way. Together they were stronger and it was together that they were going to beat this; bring the _organisation_ down to its knees, defeat Sicko and Marc Ley-Lamp and kill The Demon who had started this whole mess to begin with.

Together, united and with his brothers, Sam knew that the only way to defeat this almost omnipotent secret _organisation_ was together. A soft smile crossed Sam's lips as he settled in the back seat of the Impala, suddenly feeling lighter and more relaxed than he had in a long time.

He would always regret the lives that had been lost because of him, but lying here in the Impala, the only home he had ever known, his big brothers bickering in the front seats before him, Sam was eternally grateful that he didn't have to hide anything anymore from his brothers, that he had someone to share this burden with, that he was no longer alone.

Because Dean was right. Together, they could beat anyone and anything that came their way.

 **THE END**

 _ **Aten:**_ _And that concludes this epic tale that was only supposed to be ten chapters long. But as I have said before, endings have never been my strong suit. And fear not, this is not the end of the tale, there will be lots more tales to come, I'm sure._

 _I would like to thank everyone for their continued support, encouragement and patience on this story, without which I'm sure I would have lost interest in this a long time ago. But it is because of you that I carried on and saw this story through to its conclusion._

 _Special thanks goes to everyone who put this story on their favourite lists, liked and followed me along for this crazy ride._

 _And to all of my reviewers out there … thanks heaps for sticking with me, encouraging me and inspiring me to carry on. Your encouraging words really kept me on track and motivated to complete this story to the best of my ability._


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